The Other Side
by ProtoZivot
Summary: Voldemort begins to seek a new power from the Wiccan World in an attempt to kill Harry. Dumbledore enlists the help of witches Chris and Wyatt Halliwell to protect Harry and fight in the oncoming war. CharmedXHarryPotterCrossover. 1st in The Fated Series.
1. Introductions

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Charmed or Harry Potter**

**Title: The Other Side**

**Major Characters: Focus in the story**

** Christopher "Chris" Halliwell:** 14 yrs: Witch: Telekinesis, Mental projection, empath, telepath, touch-absorption, Psychometry, Intangibility Elder: orbing, sensing, omni-linguism, limited omniscience, dreamwalker

_ *Because Chris is part Elder (not Whitelighter) his passive powers are far more expansive than Wyatt's however Wyatt is still more powerful especially with the active powers*_

**Wyatt "Wy" Halliwell**: 16 yrs: Witch: Molecular combustion/dispersion, telekinesis, force field, rapid acceleration, energy ball, shock wave, duplication, magnetism manipulation Whitelighter: orbing, healing, sensing, omni-linguism, glamoring

**Harry Potter:** 15 yrs: Wizard

**Ronald "Ron" Weasley**: 15 yrs: Wizard

**Hermione Granger**: 15 yrs: Wizard

**Minor Characters: Here for kicks and some purpose**

** Piper and Leo Halliwell-Wyatt:** 45 to 50 yrs: Unknown/Piper: Molecular combustion, immobilization, dispersion, manipulation, and reconstruction/Leo: Mortal

**Paige and Henry Mitchell:** 35 to 45 yrs/Paige: Witch: tele-orbing, deflection Whitelighter: Orbing, Sensing, Healing, glamoring/Henry: Mortal

**Paris and Pryce Mitchell**: 10 yrs/Paris: Whitelighter: Orbing Witch: Conjuring/Pryce: Whitelighter: Healing Witch: Shifting

**Parker Mitchell:** 5 yrs: Whitelighter: Orbing Witch: tele-orbing

**Phoebe and Coop Halliwell:** 40 to 50 yrs/Phoebe: Premonition, Levitation, Empath, Summoning, Automatic Writing/ Coop: Cupid: Empathy, Teleportation, Time Travel (ring)

**Peyton Halliwell:** 11yrs: Retrocognition, Power augmentation

**Patience Halliwell:** 6 yrs: Mimicry, Negation

**Preston Halliwell:** 2 yrs: Illusionist, Invisibility

**Peri Halliwell:** 6 months yrs: Sonic Scream, Stitcher (undeveloped)

_*All part cupid children are sensitive to others feelings but they are NOT empaths* _

**Professor Dumbledore:** Extinct: Wizard

*Other characters from either world may also make appearances*

*Not sure if it is true but for the sake of this story we are all going to pretend that a wizard must know where she or he is going to apparate and must have already been there*

*Chris and Wyatt have a bond that allows them to sense each other's emotions, locations, and due to Chris's power of telepathy, thoughts*

* "Speaking", regular thoughts, _Bond thoughts between the brothers, "Chris's telepathy"*_


	2. Prolouge

**Disclaimer: I do not own Charmed or Harry Potter…and I never will. *pout***

**  
So here's the start of my very first story. Yay me. Any and All mistakes are mine. Please read and review. All comments are welcome. Criticism will be welcomed with open cyber arms and compliments will be welcome with open cyber arms and cyber brownies…**

**Please enjoy**

**AN: this first part is just like background for the story…so it may be boring but it does serve a purpose.**

From the beginning of its existence the Wizarding World has concealed its secret from the muggle population. The community stood united holding power in the European countries and was rivaled by no other more powerful world. When the New World was discovered in 1492 the Ministry of Magic concluded that the benefits of sending a group of wizards to the New World outweighed the negatives. A group of 100 wizards was sent to the New World and settled on the island of Roanoke along with a group of muggles. However the wizards were ill prepared for the differences of the New World, and pushed for survival, they discovered something strange about the new land mass they now called home. The land held a power, a power that was raw, uninhibited, and soul deep. The wizards called this power Croatoan. Desperate, the wizards attempted to harness the power and they succeeded at first, but Croatoan was too much of a raw power for the wizards to handle. Some died, others went mad, and still others escaped from the island…

Not all of the original Croatoan Wizards were lost. Some simply merged into the appearing colonies or native tribes in the New World. As they lived they learned more about the power they had harnessed on Roanoke. They no longer required wands to work their magic so those were discarded. Each wizard had and elevated inclination to one or more "spells" than another. Realizing they were no longer a part of their old Wizarding World they remaining originals formed a clan which they simply called the "Council". At this time the wizards began to discover that the Croatoan power was passed down to their children and that time no longer affected them. As their numbers grew the Council decided that only original Croatoan wizards would be allowed to serve on the Council leading their descendents and muggle families to call them Elders. As their society progressed their magic evolved even father from the Wizarding World counterpart. The Croatoan magic was specialized in each individual and connected directly to ones emotions.

The Elders began to shape their civilization. They divided the descendents into two groups, those with offensive powers and those with defensive powers—the first would protect the muggles, or mortals as the Elders now called them, from innate evils or rouge Croatoan wizards and the other would guide and protect the first group. The first group became known as Witches the protectors of innocents and the second became known as Whitelighters. Recognizing the powerful temptation the power of Croatoan presented the Elders initiated strict rules on the use of its magic. Witches would only be allowed to use their magic for the good of others not for personal gain. Any use of magic for personal gain would result in terrible consequences for the Witch who cast the spell. Whitelighters would guide the Witches to help them avoid the temptations of Croatoan and would answer directly to the Elders. Witches and Whitelighters who disagreed with the Elders retreated underground where they evolved overtime into the opposites of their good halves—Warlocks, Demons, and Darklighters.

Through all the years apart neither the Wizarding World nor the Wiccan World interacted with the other. Few in the Wizarding World knew of the Wiccan's existence and knowledge of the Wizarding World in the Wiccan was fading fast. It was just as well however as such a union between the two worlds would result in very powerful and ancient magic…

Now in present day one dark and powerful wizard will seek the power of Croatoan to obtain that which he so desperately wants and has been trying to achieve for many years…

**Well now the next chapter will begin the actual story…r&r :) **


	3. Early Bird

**Disclaimer: I do not own Charmed or Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing the people for a bit. I will eventually have to give them back…*sniff*…I need a tissue…**

**Okay so here's Ch.1. Any and all mistakes are mine. Reviews are wanted and welcomed even (especially) criticism. Please do enjoy. **

**Chapter One**

*BEEP*

As soon as the noise escaped the alarm clock on the stand by the bed, Chris's hand shot out smacking it on top to quickly shut it off. Groaning he rolled out of the bed and fell heavily to the floor landing with a loud thud.

"Ow," he mumbled, "that was like really stupid." Questioning his own intelligence he slowly stood up and glared and the red glowing numbers that read the time to be 4:30…AM. Why the heck was he getting up so early? Oh wait, that's right, he thought, the brother who was currently snoring three feet away had somehow convinced Chris that they should go down the Underworld for a little bit of demon hunting before school. Scowling Chris crept out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom where he quickly splashed water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up. Returning to his room Chris pulled on jeans, a tee-shirt, and a hoodie. He strode over to Wyatt and shook his shoulder. "Come on bro, wake up," he whispered. When Wyatt's only response was to snore loudly Chris heaved an exasperated sigh and shoved Wyatt off his bed.

"WHATSS SSATY?"

"Shhhh! Are you awake now," Chris asked.

Wyatt peered up at him blearily, "Whatsat, yeeahh m'I manke."

Chris rolled his eyes. It was a really good thing he spoke fluent Wyattanese. "Come on, wake your butt up and get dressed," he said throwing a shirt at the still half asleep Wyatt. Wyatt yawned, grabbed some clothes and headed for the door. "I'll meet ya in the attic," Chris whispered to Wyatt as he orbed out.

Reappearing in the attic Chris pulled two worn looking leather bags from underneath the couch. After checking to make sure they were still well stocked with multiple types of vanquishing potions he sank down on the couch to wait for Wyatt. The brothers didn't really need the potions, but Chris felt safer knowing they were there just in case. He and Wyatt were no strangers to the Underworld, their 'personal playground', as they had been orbing down periodically for the past year or so to go on demon hunts. Sighing Chris scrubbed his hands over face and stood up as Wyatt orbed in looking very much awake now. He flashed Chris a wide grin as he grabbed one of the bags from the couch, "You ready to go gank some demons?"

Chris felt a smile tug at his lips, "I'm always ready. Let's go." Two identical swirls of orbs disappeared from the attic…

†††

Albus Dumbledore sat quietly at his desk staring at the reports from the Order. He had reactivated the Order of the Phoenix after Voldemort's corporal return and the Ministry's ignorance of the fact. With Voldemort and his Death Eaters now at large the wizarding and muggle communities were in danger. Harry too was in great danger and Dumbledore was worried about the impulsive youth, he had a tendency to be found by trouble. Albus sighed reading through the reports again, this, this was what really caused his worry. Voldemort was looking for something, something he hadn't had before. Albus had suspicions he hadn't shared with anyone else on the matter. If the Dark Lord was really searching for the power of Croatoan, something that had been suppressed and contained for centuries, then not only the Wizarding World was in danger but the sister world of the Wiccans as well. Dumbledore stood from his desk walking over to a beautiful flame red bird, "I believe, Fawks, that the time has come to visit an old friend of mine."

**Well that's the end of Ch.1. R & R. Thanks for reading. Please comment on anything you wish by pushing that button. :) **


	4. Think Fast

**Disclaimer: Yo ****no**** posea Charmed o Harry Potter. Lágrimas. **

**Y aqui esta Ch. Dos…**

**Chapter Two**

"_DUCK!"_

Wyatt dropped quickly to the ground at the sound his brother's telepathic warning. Whoa. That was close call. Wyatt spun around flicking his hand out at the demon. He let out a whoop as the demon screamed and exploded. He grabbed the next demon slamming his knee in the demons stomach before twisting the hand holding the athame and slicing through the throat. He shoved the flaming body away spinning around to face his next adversary. He glanced over at Chris to make sure he was still holding his own, and winced in sympathy for the demon as he watched Chris slam his knee first into the demon's stomach and then his chin before slamming the heel of his hand into the demon's nose. Chris reached out with his telekinetic power crushing the demon and causing him to implode. Wyatt sent several energy balls at several demons, more shimmering or flaming in even as he and Chris continued to take them out. "Ah, Chris, maybe a spell," he called as he threw a vial at an upper level demon.

"Sure, Wy, just give me five undisturbed minutes to sit down, think, and come up with one," Chris snapped as he sent another demon flying across the room.

"What do you want me to do?" Wyatt asked.

"Don't talk me into doing this again?" Chris yelled back, "that would be great." He grunted and flipped a demon over his shoulder stabbing it with his athame. _Seriously though, Wy, let's not do this again cause, dude, I should be sleeping right now. _Wyatt shook his head. _Hey you're the one who agreed to it. _Wyatt smiled as he felt Chris's annoyance through their bond. _Awww come on Chris you know you're enjoying it. _Wyatt laughed at the mental image sent through the bond of Chris sticking his tongue out.

_"WYATT"_

Wyatt grunted as he hit the ground hard gasping as the air was knocked out of him. He threw up a force field blocking the descending ax blade and rolled to the left. The demon swung again. Wyatt grabbed the handle pulling the demon down and flipped over on top of him. Wyatt shoved the handle down across the demon's throat. The demon punched Wyatt in the face, and rolled on top of the Witch throwing the axe away. With a snarl the demon clamped his hands around the Twice Blessed's throat. Wyatt struggled to suck in some air. He slammed his hand into the demon's face, but the demon didn't loosen its grip. _Chris. Help._

"_When gone from the safety of home_

_Evils beheld and evils roam_

_Brothers you will relieve_

_For no more shall you breathe_

_Plans a broken, schemes a bust_

_Now these evils become but dust"_

Wyatt sucked in air as the demons in the cave disintegrated. "Dude, you just got owned by a Dwayne Johnson," Chris said.

"Nice spell, bro. Knew I kept you around for something," Wyatt gasped out between pants.

"Yeah," Chris said his tone practically dripping with sarcasm, "ya keep me around just to save your idiotic butt when your schemes go south." He held his hand out to help Wyatt up. "Seriously, Wy, I thought this was supposed to be a simple in and out vanquish."

Wyatt shrugged. "It was. I honestly have no idea what all those demons were doing here at once." He looked at Chris intently. "What 'bout you? Your omniscient mind coming up with anything?" Chris glared at him but shook his head. "No vibes either?"

"No, Wyatt, I've got nothing, nada."

Wyatt nodded. "Come on. We'd better get back home." He grabbed his brother's arm and orbed out.

Reforming back in their room Chris dropped to his bed and closed his eyes wishing he could sleep for a week. _"Never again Wy. Never"_

Wyatt smirked at him, "Okay Chris, just remember that was exactly what you said last time."

_"Well what can I say, you're annoyingly convincing."_

"Why thank you."

_"It wasn't a compliment. What time is it?"_

Wyatt glanced at his clock before tugging off his sweatshirt and looking at the mud stain on the back critically. "Five fifty-nine, and would it kill you to talk out loud?" he asked tossing the shirt in the direction of the hamper.

_"Ahh huh." _Suddenly Chris jumped up from his bed bolting out the door. Wyatt stared at the door slacked jaw before realizing what Chris was doing. "No!" He leapt over Chris's bed chasing after his brother down the hallway. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no!" Chris slid into the bathroom and shut the door just as Wyatt reached the threshold. Wyatt slammed his hand against now closed door. "No." Wyatt heard Chris laugh behind the door. "I. Hate. You."

"Wyatt? Is something wrong? Is there a demon?"

Wyatt spun around and pouted when he saw his dad, fully dressed for work, standing just outside the door to his and Piper's room. "Chris beat me to the bathroom."

Leo made an 'ahh' face and quietly pulled the door shut behind him, walking father into the hall. "Well your Mother ended up having to go to the club last night so if you could keep it down so she can sleep."

"Sure thing, Dad," he whispered.

"Well come on my slow son, let's get breakfast. I think your mom made muffins."

Sticking his tongue out Wyatt touched the ex-elders arm and orbed to the kitchen. Ignoring his father's reproachful glare Wyatt grabbed two glasses handing one to Leo. They ate in silence and ten minutes later Chris bounded down the stairs snatching a muffin as he passed the table with a "hey dad" to Leo. Wyatt wondered fleetingly if he should inform his brother the muffins were chocolate chip since Chris hated that kind but decided he wanted revenge for the bathroom incident. He suppressed the thought trying to hide it from his brother, but the telepath stopped and suddenly chucked the muffin at Wyatt's head. Wyatt ducked beneath the table with a yelp prompting Leo to shhh him.

"Chris please do not throw your food at your brother no matter what he thinks," Leo said guessing correctly that Chris's action had been in response to Wyatt's thoughts.

Chris made a pouting face but answered with a sullen okay. He glanced at the clock and then his father, "Dad, um it's six-fifteen."

Leo looked at the clock sharply. "Darn it," he said standing, "I'm going to be late. Okay, I have to head into the shop, you boys need anything?"

"Nope we're good"

"Okay. I'll see you later. Don't be late for school."

"Yes, Dad," Wyatt said watching Leo run around like a chicken with its head chopped off.

Keys, Leo thought, where are my keys? "Chris, where are my ke—"

"Left inside pocket of your coat," Chris called from the kitchen. Leo stuck his hand in the pocket and pulled out his keys. He started for the door and stopped. Wallet. He patted his back pockets. Nope. Not there. He glanced around looking for it.

Chris sighed. "Conservatory."

Leo ran to the conservatory and sure enough there was his wallet. He grabbed it and shouted thanks to Chris and a goodbye to both his boys before leaving.

In the kitchen Wyatt looked at his brother in wonder. Sometimes he really wondered why he was considered the more "powerful" brother when Chris had the power of omniscience and well everything else.

Chris glanced up from his toast at Wyatt, "Because you still have more power overall, especially active powers. I mean really how good is omniscience in battle? It's like 'the demon behind you is about to stab you' oh well what ya gonna do?"

Wyatt raised his eyebrows, "Ahh…Duck."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Sure Wy. Then what, vanquish him with my good looks?"

"Nope. Stab him with your athame."

"All you'd have to do is flick your fingers and poof he's a goner."

"Ok," Wyatt sighed, "You win, point taken."

Chris nodded, "Good. Now go take that shower you so desperately wanted earlier before you make us late for school."

Wyatt scowled at Chris, but complied orbing away.

**And here's the end…Please as always r&r…**


	5. AN:QuestionsAnswers

First. I want to thank anyone who reviewed and /or read my story. It was incredibly uplifting to read the reviews. Thank you again and I hope this clears up as many things as possible.

Okay. Some reviewers have expressed that they didn't know exactly what powers I gave the Halliwell family were so here's the elaboration. And I wanted to explain why each brother has those powers.

**Christopher "Chris" Halliwell:**

Witch: Telekinesis, Mental projection, empath, telepath, touch-absorption, Psychometry, Intangibility

Elder: orbing, sensing, omni-linguism, limited omniscience, dreamwalker

Okay here's the set up. Power, Active/Passive, Function, Where/Who it came from.

**Telekinesis: witch**

active power

moving objects with one's mind

Prue

**Mental Projection: witch**

passive/active power

ability to project corporal adaptations of one's thoughts, mental state, and/or, mental conscious

similar to Prue's astral projection

**Empath: witch**

Passive power *he's not as good at channeling like Phoebe*

Ability to sense others emotions

Phoebe *he got a power from Prue, why not Phoebe?*

**Telepath: witch**

Passive/active power

Ability to hear/respond to another's thoughts/Ability to use his thoughts to compel another to do what he wants

*must overcome a person's innate defense against this*

Logical advance of empathy

**Touch-Absorption: witch**

Active power

Ability to absorb another's life force and/or powers for a _short_ time

I have no idea…my wacky mind

**Psychometry: witch**

Passive Power

AKA token-object reading, a form of extra-sensory perception characterized by the ability to make relevant associations from an object of unknown history by making physical contact with that object/kinda like reverse premonitions.

Reverse of Phoebe's Precognition

**Intangibility: witch**

Passive power

Ability to phase through solid objects

Idk *In theory the Warran/Halliwell line would have contained many powers never mentioned in the show*

**Orbing: Elder**

Passive power

We all know what this is, yes?

Whitelighter/Elders

**Sensing: Elder**

Passive power

Ability to locate specific people through psychic connection

Whitelighter's sense their Charges

**Omni-linguism****: Elder**

Passive power

Ability to pick up on (speak and understand) foreign languages after hearing or seeing them

Whitelighters/Elders speak whatever language their charges speak.

**Limited omniscience****: Elder**

Passive power

Ability to inherently know specific things. Only works sometimes hence the _limited_ part.

The Elders seemed to always know things even if they didn't share them.

**Dreamwalker****: Elder**

Passive power

Ability to enter the dream plane through his own dreams or the dreams of another

Its and elder power so it didn't come from Chris Warren/Halliwell linage

_*Because Chris is part Elder (not Whitelighter) his passive powers are far more expansive than Wyatt's however Wyatt is still more powerful especially with the active powers*_

**Wyatt "Wy" Halliwell**:

Witch: Molecular combustion/dispersion, telekinesis, force field, rapid acceleration, energy ball, shock wave, duplication, magnetism manipulation

Whitelighter: orbing, healing, sensing, omni-linguism, glamoring

Okay, same set up as above: Power, Active/Passive, Function, Where/Who it came from

**Molecular Combustion: Witch**

Active Power

Ability to cause molecules to accelerate and thus explode or combust

Piper

**Molecular Dispersion: Witch**

Active Power

Ability to cause molecules to disperse or 'fall apart' effectively disintegrating the target

Piper

**Telekinesis: Witch**

Active power

Ability to move objects with one's mind

Prue

**Force Field: Witch**

Active power

Ability to create a shield to protect and/or contain those within.

As seen in show

**Rapid Acceleration: Witch**

Active power

Ability to move extremely fast

Paige's charge on Charmed gave me the idea

**Energy Ball: Witch**

Active power

Ability to create and discharge spheres of energy

As seen in show

**Shock Wave (Energy Blast): Witch**

Active power

Ability to discharge a wave of energy

As seen in show

**Duplication: Witch**

Active power

Ability to create a freethinking clone of one's self for a short time

My head

**Magnetism Manipulation: Witch**

Active power

Ability to manipulate magnetic fields

Restricted variation of Piper's molecular manipulation

**Orbing: Whitelighter**

Passive power

Teleport in pretty blue sparkles

Whitelighter

**Healing: Whitelighter**

Passive power

Ability to mend the ailments/injuries of others

Whitelighter

**Sensing: Whitelighter**

Passive power

Ability to locate charges and family through psychic means

**Omni-linguism: Whitelighter**

Passive power

Ability to speak/understand any language after hearing/seeing it

Whitelighters speak whatever language their charge speaks

**Glamoring: Whitelighter**

Passive power

Ability to change one's appearance/surroundings at will

Paige

I concluded that the each brother would be powerful in their own right.

Wyatt is the first born son of the most powerful Charmed One and a Whitelighter and the prophesized Twice-Blessed so logically he has some pretty kick-butt powers, some of which may have never been in the Warren/Halliwell line. I tried to keep all his powers that were revealed in the show but it's been forever since I've seen shows from those seasons. I also gave him powers I thought he'd have or wanted him to have.

Chris isn't the first born or the prophesized but he is still the son of Piper who is considered the most powerful Charmed. And Elders are considered to be like these extremely powerful forces of good (despite Gideon, grrr) so a union between a Charmed One and an Elder would, logically, result in a powerful child. Following that logic I decided to make Chris powerful passively (since the elders are always going on about 'keeping the balance'). Chris is powerful with passive powers and Wyatt is powerful with active powers.

Chris and Wyatt have a lot of powers I know, but there are reasons.

First, I wanted them to be that way and it's my story.

Second, Chris and Wyatt are the first Warren/Halliwell line and they (unlike their cousins) are half and half hybrids. Elder/Whitelighter and Witch.

(Paige's children are ¼ witch, ¼ whitelighter, and ½ mortal)

(Phoebe's children are ½ witch and ½ cupid)

Third, unlike the sisters their powers were not bound until their twenties so from their conception their powers have been advancing and developing so they have more powers at a younger age and more powers than their younger cousins.

Last thing if you're thinking "Chris didn't have that many powers when he came back to the past" here are my theories:

One-he couldn't use many of his powers because he would upset the balance of power and alert the elders

Two-his powers were bound or stripped by Evil Wyatt in the future before his return (except telekinesis and orbing)

Three-The Chris from the first timeline (evil Wyatt) was half whitelighter half witch, but by coming to the past and making Leo an elder Chris made himself half elder half witch in the second timeline (good Wyatt). He would still be Chris Halliwell because "Leo" is still "Leo" whether he's whitelighter or elder but his powers would be altered. While in the past Chris Perry's powers wouldn't change so in the show Chris would still only have telekinesis and orbing.


	6. Echoes From the Past

**Disclaimer: I do not own Charmed or Harry Potter. **

**I want to thank everyone who is reading this story and a special thank you to anyone you reviews. Thanks. :)**

**Okay so here's chapter three… enjoy**

**Chapter Three**

Chris shook his head as the blue lights that were his brother disappeared. He _might_ have a problem, only a slight one though, with using his telepathy to communicate instead of talking out loud, but at least he didn't feel need to orb everywhere. Seriously, that's what legs were for. Chris stuffed the rest of his toast in his mouth before turning on the television for the news. He opened the fridge grabbing a bottle of water, but froze as a familiar voice sounded from the speakers.

"As of now we can make no conclusions."

"Inspector, can you at least tell us how many were murdered?"

Chris let fridge door swing shut, telekinetically turning up the volume to listen. Darrel Morris, inside police man for the Halliwell's and close family friend, was on the screen practically being cornered by a reporter and her cameraperson. Chris suppressed the urge to want to slap them. Seriously couldn't they just let the poor Inspector go do his job rather than badger him with questions? Chris shook the thought away in favor of actually listening.

"I have no further comments," Darrel said, "Excuse me."

"Inspector—" the reporter cut off as Darrel ducked under yellow tape and walked away. The women sighed and turned around. "No one really seems to conclusively know what occurred here last night. The only details I was able to garner were that as many as ten people were murdered in this home. Allegedly there was no forced entry or wounds on the victims to indicate a cause of death…"

Chris turned to grab the phone. That sounded pretty demonic to him and he wanted to call Darrel. Just as he picked up the phone, though, it rang. Chris answered having a good idea who it was already.  
"Hello?" Darrel said.

"Hey," Chris answered, "I was just going to call you."

"Chris, I'm sorry for calling so early. So I take it you saw the news?"

"No problem Darrel. I was up anyway for school. So what's the deal with this case?"

Chris heard Darrel sigh. "Honestly. I haven't got a clue which makes me think demonic. Six people dead. No forced entry. All the doors and windows were locked, security system wasn't tampered with."

"Six?" Chris asked. The report had said ten people but the fact that there had been less was good.

"Yeah." Chris heard reluctance in his tone. "Two adults, two children, and two friends. One of the friend's parents called it in. Their kid was supposed check in, when she didn't they drove over to check it out. That was around midnight. The thing I'm really freaked out by though is the victims. There are no wounds Chris, no COD. They just dropped dead."

"Heart attack?" Chris asked just to say something.

"Children, Chris, and all six at once. No."

Chris sighed, "Wyatt and I will come look around. What's the address?"

Chris wrote down the address as Wyatt walked back in the kitchen. Noticing the phone he mouthed 'who is it?' at his brother.

_"Darrel."_ Chris replied gesturing to the TV where the reporter had cornered another cop and was attempting to weasel information out of her. One glance at the lady and Chris knew the reporter wouldn't get a thing. "Okay, Darrel we'll be right over. Ah huh. Bye." Chris looked at Wyatt and hung up. "Feel like checkin' out some demon activity?"

"Demonic, Chris, are you sure?" Chris raised an eyebrow and related everything Darrel had told him. Wyatt let out a low whistle, "Okay. Um, what about school?"

Chris smirked shouldering his bag. _"Eh we'll be late. But for now we're going on a self-motivated field trip."_

†††

"Darrel! Oi, Inspector Morris!"

Darrel turned hearing his name and caught sight of a sullen looking Chris and an embarrassed Wyatt. He watched as Chris snapped at a nervous looking cop. "Hey," he called making his way over to the boys, "Let them through."

"You sure, Inspector. They said they were psychics—"

"They are," Darrel cut him off sharply lifting the tape for Chris and Wyatt to duck under. The cop opened his mouth then shut it.

"Thank you, Darrel," Chris said shooting a glare at the cop before walking past. Wyatt gave the cop a sympathetic smile and a 'what are you going to do' shrug and followed his brother and Darrel.

Darrel smiled at Chris as they entered the house, "The man do something special or did he just get a free sample of 'bitchy Chrissy' for no reason?"

Chris looked at him with pressed lips, "You mean beside be an annoying pain at seven-thirty am? Nothing."

"Sorry, Darrel," Wyatt said glaring at Chris, "He didn't get his coffee this morning."

"Yeah and my sugar rush ran dry on the way here," Chris said. _"None of which would have happened if you hadn't decided to take a trip to the underworld at four-thirty in the morning."_

"Look I'm sorry, but _you _agreed to go," Wyatt said exasperated.

Catching the confused look on Darrel's face, Chris filled in the blanks. "Wyatt decided he wanted to spend the day with a crabby brother, so he drug me demon hunting at four-thirty in the morning."

"Well you weren't grouchy until we left the manor," Wyatt grumbled.

"So," Chris shot back, "Then there was traffic, the crazy old lady in the red prius, and that freaking annoying cop who wouldn't let us see Darrel. So yes I'm a little cranky. I was functioning fine for three hours now I'm crashing."

"That doesn't—"

"Boys!" Both Chris and Wyatt immediately shut up and stared at Darrel. Darrel waved his hands around. "Ahh are you going to…"

"Oh right. Yeah sure." Chris carefully set his bag down and moved to the middle of the room. Wyatt looked around searching for any signs of demonic activity or anything hinting to the residents being witches.

Chris sighed clearing his mind. Both his omniscience and psychometry would be helpful in determining what happened here, but only if he managed to pick up on anything. His psychometry worked mostly through touch; however, this was an active crime scene so he couldn't really just start putting his fingerprints all over everything. He would just have to rely on what he got through the atmosphere of the home.

Chris stretched out his senses trying to get a read off the room. There. He sensed fear, logical; the people were murdered after all. Lots of fear. He sucked in air in an attempt to dispel the external emotion threatening to overwhelm him and dug deeper. Fear. Confusion. Fear. Panic. Hopelessness. Fear. Giddiness. Pleasure. Those two were from the killers most likely; wouldn't make sense for the victims to feel that way. Fear. That was the overriding emotion. Something was off though. Chris frowned shifting through the feelings permeating the space. There was no pain. Chris opened his eyes. No pain? Well Darrel had said there had been no wounds, but demons liked pain. They never missed a chance to inflict it.

"Darrel," Chris called out not finding the man where he'd been standing before, "Where were the victims found?"

"Upstairs in the bedrooms." Darrel shouted back. Chris heard Darrel murmur something to Wyatt as he climbed the stairs. There was a hallway; three doors on each side; a window at the end with a table and a vase of flowers. There were pictures on the wall depicting the family. A father, mother, teenage daughter, and a little girl. Chris brushed his fingers along the frame. Love.

Chris pushed open the first door on his left. A home office. Feelings of frustration and satisfaction filled the room. Glancing around Chris noted that the room was organized, and there were several crystals in the room. A quartz on the tower of the computer, a tigers eye on the desk, and a lodestone on the bookshelf.

The next room Chris guessed to be the guest room. It was simply furnished; a bed, bedside table, and bureau. A quick empathic sweep of the room reveled only residual emotions from the rest of the house.

The moment he touched door of the next room Chris felt his throat constrict. Love. Hope. Panic. Fear. Loss. Love. Dread. He opened the door revealing a pink wonderland. The little girl's room he realized. He looked around. There was a small bed with a pink comforter and several stuffed animals, a doll house to the left, and a small table set up for a tea party to the right. Chris ran his fingers lightly against the wall.

_A young girl runs by brushing her small hand along the wall. "Play with me, Mommy."_

Chris crossed the floor to the bed running his hand across the blanket.

"_Read me a story mommy"_

_A woman laughs, "Alright Casey, but just one"_

_There are noises in the hallway. I heard Karri scream. They'll come to my room next. I hide under my bed. They find me anyway. I'm so afraid. They wear dark dresses with scary masks and speak words I don't understand._

"_Just take your medicine, Casey, and you'll feel better, I promise." But I don't like the medicine so I hide it under my bed._

_The man says something I don't understand and waves a stick. There's a flash of green—_

Chris yanked his hand from the bedspread. Well that made absolutely no sense. He wiped angrily at an escaped tear. Darnit, he hated it when he got too immersed in the echoes…but Casey. Stop it, he scolded himself. A man in dark clothes-robes?-waving a stick, and talking in Latin. Chris shook his head. None of it fit. His first thought was wizard, but there would be no reason for a wizard to murder this family. Unless he was a psychotic wizard. But their kind was practically all but extinct now. There was no way any of the few left would risk murdering a family so blatantly in San Francisco where the Charmed Ones and their children resided.

Chris sighed scrubbing his hands over his face. A plant swag above the door caught his eye. Dragging one of the chairs over to stand on Chris gently pulled a few sprigs lose. Thistle and bramble leaf; herbs of protection. Well they did a crap load of good. Chris left Casey's room. A quick look around the master bedroom and Karri's, the teen, produced similar results and a teary eyed Chris when he rejoined Wyatt downstairs.

"Chris," Wyatt said, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Wy. What did you find?" Chris snapped.

Wyatt raised his eyebrows but answered. "Well the kitchen is full of herbs and there are crystals and subtle talismans all over the house. They have an alter room in the back, but it's pretty basic. I'm guessing that they were just a practicing Wiccan family and not true witches."

Chris nodded, "They had thistle and bramble leaves above all the doorways upstairs. Had it actually been blessed it might have dispelled whatever killed them. Just the herbs though…"

Wyatt sighed. "Look at this," he said drawing Chris's attention to a map spread out on the table. "This house is built on a nexus."

Chris whistled, "But I thought the manor was the only nexus around here?"

"Ahh. It was when our ancestors built it. But this park," he said tapping the map, "was constructed two years ago in precisely the right spot to create another nexus. The energies have been pooling here for the last two years with no one from the magical community any wiser because its dormant. I'm guessing whatever attacked this family somehow discovered the nexus and wanted to harness it."

"You know, Wy, no matter what everyone else says you do have your moments of wisdom, but there's a flaw in your theory."

Wyatt glared at Chris, "What?"

Chris clapped his brother on the shoulder. "The attack wasn't demonic."

Wyatt made an 'ahh' face. "Wait. You mean a mortal did this?"

"No."

"Then what?" Wyatt asked.

"I have no idea."

†††

"Leo Wyatt"

Leo heard someone say his name from underneath the car he was working on. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. "Yeah. Just give me a sec." Leo rolled out from under the vehicle and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands. "Can I help you?" he asked not looking at the person.

"Yes I believe you may be able too. I require your help."

"Of course I'll do what—" Leo turned around and broke off. "Albus?"

**And there's the end of ch.3. Getting closer to the meeting of the two worlds. Next chapter might be the wizard trio or no I'm not sure yet. **

**Oh I was a little worried about Chris coming off as, ahh, to emotional in this chapter but decided that getting short clips of murdered people's lives and their murder, especially of a little girl, would make anyone, uh, sad soooo…**

**Anyhoo please r&r…**


	7. Old Friends

**Disclaimer: I do not own Charmed or Harry Potter. **

**First-sorry 'bout the slow update but you know life got in the way…*smile*…mine does that a lot so…Thank you all my reviewers and readers, even those who aren't reviewing *glares* lol just THANK YOU! Everyone.**

**Crlncyln- you're absolutely correct. Paige **_**was**_** the first whitelighter/witch. What I meant (and I really could have been clearer, my bad) was that Wyatt and Chris were the first **_**male**_** hybrids. Paige also wasn't the child of a powerful Charmed One. **

**Okay so yes Harry Potter and Charmed take place years apart but I have decided to keep the Charmed timeline so everything in the Harry Potter universe will just be accelerated in time 24 years to mesh with Charmed.**

**So… **

**Harry was born on July 31 2004**

**Ron was born on March 1 2004**

**Hermione was born on September 19 2004**

**The trio started their schooling at Hogwarts in 2015**

**Wyatt was born on February 16 2003**

**Chris was born on November 16 2005**

**So…as of August 20 2019…Wyatt is 16, Harry and Ron are 15, Hermione is 14 (soon 15), and Chris is 14.**

**So (wow I say that a lot don't I…oh well) on with why you're here…**

**Chapter Four**

"Hello Leonardo. It has been quite a time since our last meeting," Dumbledore said smiling at his old friend.

Leo laughed. "Well that's an understatement. I haven't seen you since—"He broke off remembering exactly the last time he and Albus had spoken.

Albus's reply was soft. "October thirty-first, two-thousand and five. Just before the birth of your second son I believe."

"Yeah," Leo whispered. He was quiet for a moment, "How is he?"

"Fine. Fine. He's got a home and good friends." Dumbledore said.

Leo nodded, "Good, good."

"So, Leo, my friend, how have you been?"

"I've been good. Things were a little _rough _after Chris's birth but we got through them."

"Chris is the name of your second born?" Albus inquired.

"Yes. It was my grandfather's name." he explained.

"Ah. It was the whitelighters name as well, yes? Is he still the girls whitelighter?" Dumbledore asked sounding genuinely interested.

Leo swallowed hard. "Um…," he coughed, "Chris Perry—he—he's not here anymore." Leo threw the towel he was holding down. He didn't want to say dead, couldn't say dead. Because Chris Perry wasn't dead, he was alive, very much alive, and at school right now. Chris wasn't dead because he was here—happy, safe, loved, and alive. But—but no one outside he, the sisters, and Victor knew that. "He died the day Chris was born," he finished softly.

"I'm sorry. He seemed like a good man." Dumbledore said, sorrow ringing in his words

"He was." Leo cleared his throat. "So, Professor, what brings you here?"

"Am I not allowed to visit an old friend?" Leo leveled the wizard with a hard look. Albus smiled, "Ah, alas I cannot. I need your help, Leo."

"Help?" Leo said slipping into (ex)Elder mode.

"Yes, but perhaps we can discuss this in a more private place."

†††

Leo unlocked the front door to the manor holding it open for the wizard. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be now that I'm mortal, but I'm sure the sisters will be more than happy to offer any assistance they can."

"Alas, my old friend, that is all I can ask," Dumbledore replied allowing the door to swing shut.

Leo nodded hanging his coat, "Well none of the sisters are home right now, but I can give—" He broke off, his eyes landing on a two backpacks sitting on the floor in the foyer. Two bags that were supposed to be with his two sons who were supposed to be at school. "Chris! Wyatt!" He turned to Dumbledore, "Could you wait here a moment?" Dumbledore nodded as Leo jogged up the stairs. On instinct he headed to the attic.

Wyatt and Chris looked up from the Book of Shadows as their father opened the door.

"Dad," Wyatt said surprised. Chris shot his brother a look that clearly said 'no duh, idiot'. Leo crossed his arms silently asking for an explanation.

"Well," Chris began, "if you get a call saying we're not at school it's probably because…we…are here." Chris nodded his head as if that had cleared things up. Now it was Wyatt's turn to throw the duh look. Chris took a deep breath before saying in a rush. "Darrel called shortly after you left and asked us to check out a case for him so we did but what we found was kinda disturbing so we came back here to check the book."

Leo pursed his lips, "I thought your mother asked you two not to check out cases on your own?"

"What did you want us to do, Dad," Chris said sarcastically, "Grab Phoebe from Hong Kong?" He looked at Leo surprised, having just caught a thought saying that Leo wanted him to do just that.

"Actually right now—yes…that is exactly what I want you to do and Wyatt, I want you to go get your mom. I'll call Paige."

**Well…short I know but I'll update again ASAP…**

**Hey…cyber cookies to anyone who can guess what happened the last time Leo and Dumbledore spoke…just remember all Harry Potter dates are accelerated roughly 24 years m'kay…**


	8. Story Time and Plans

**Disclaimer: I. Most. Definitely. Do. Not. Own. Charmed. Or. Harry Potter. … Dang. It. I keep hoping I'll be able to type something different…so far No luck. :( **

**And here is Chapter 5… A shout out thank you to all my reviewers and readers…what would I do without you? Hmmm**

**Enjoy … oh and remember all mistakes are mine :) **

**Chapter Five**

_**August 19**__**thish**_

"OH MY GOD. I **cannot** _believe_ you did that. AFTER I _specifically_ told you **not** to check into cases by yourself. And what do you? **You** go off all by yourselves without telling _anyone_ of us. What if the demon had been there, huh? What if—"

"Honey," Leo broke in trying to calm the force of nature that was his wife, "the boys have already apologized multiple times and—"

"No Leo. Not only did they did they go to a crime scene by _themselves,_ they deliberately skipped school…for something magical." Her voice rose to the point of hysterics as she waved her hands around. "That _is_ not supposed to happen in this house unless it's an emergency, and unless Darrel was being held at fireball point I highly doubt it was an emergency worthy of missing school for."

Chris glanced at his brother, _"Do you think it was worthy? I think it was worthy." _

Wyatt stared at Chris, _Do I think what was worthy?_

_ "The case, Wyatt. Are you even listening to Mom anymore?"_

_ Not really. I stopped after she started repeating herself._

_ "Eh, yeah she is being a little redundant."_

_ Redudnet?_

_ "Redundant. You know…, nevermind. Hey, this is like a record. Barely one week into school and we've already skipped a day."_

_ Yes, Chris because we deserve some sort of award for that._

_ "Hey! I resent that tone. And we should, I mean we are giving up our non-magical education, which is of the utmost importance to me, to catch and/or vanquish bad individuals that intend harm to others."_

_ I am surprised you could keep a straight face thinking that._

Chris's laughter echoed in Wyatt's mind_. "Yeah so am I. _He fell silent for a beat. _"I bet you Mom's going to blow up the light before she stops yelling."_

_ Nope. I learned a long time ago not to bet against you. You always win. _

_ "Not always…there was that one—"_

"Boys!" Piper's sharp voice broke both brothers out of their internal conversation. "Are either of you even listening to me?" she demanded.

Both boys blinked. "Of course we are Mom," Wyatt stammered.

"Really? Then what did I just say?" she asked darkly.

"Um, um…" Wyatt looked at Chris for back up.

"Ahh," Chris said staring at his mother, "I'm guessing it has nothing to do with muddy pigs dancing around in ballerina tutus singing Eye of the Tiger."

Piper raised her eyebrows, "So you weren't listening?"

"Yes…we…were…but we were…distracted by…your…elaborate…hand gestures," Chris 'defended' waving his hands around in an imitation of Piper.

"Good job, bro," Wyatt whispered.

Chris glared at him, "Well at least I tried."

"Both of you are grounded. No phones, no TV, no going out except for school, no music players…Chris give it up," she said holding her hand out. Chris's jaw dropped as he looked to his father to fight for his I-pod. Leo shrugged and Chris sullenly dropped his beloved music player into his mother's hand. "And most importantly no magic," Piper finished. "I'm not going to bind your powers, and if we need your help with Leo's friend you'll help. But that's it. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Mom," both boys muttered.

"Good." Piper turned around walking out of the attic. "Now let's go meet Leo's friend."

"_Guess what, Wyatt?"_

_What?_

"_You should have made that bet. We still have a functioning light."_

_ …_

Chris laughed as he left the attic.

†††

"Ahh," Dumbledore said watching Leo, Piper, Chris, and Wyatt come down the stairs. "Mrs. Halliwell, pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Piper smiled, "It's great to finally meet you as well." She replied sending Leo a meaningful look.

"Wyatt." Dumbledore said shaking the blonde's hand. "My, my, you have grown into a fine young man." Wyatt thanked him, blushing slightly, thinking it weird to have an old man, he hadn't even known existed, speak as if they had known one another for years.

"And you must be Christopher," Dumbledore said turning to the youngest Halliwell present.

"Hi," Chris said holding out his hand, "You can just call me Chris." Dumbledore shook the offered hand, staring at the boy in amazement. This Chris was a spinning image of the whitelighter he had once known. They weren't the same person obviously, couldn't be. But…This Chris was younger, softer-looking, less guarded and closed and he had a welcoming, if hesitant, smile. There was no denying it, though, that Christopher definitely looked like Chris Perry, if they weren't identical. The question was why?

The boy shifted, his smile fading a little, and Dumbledore realized he was still holding the child's hand and staring at him like some museum exhibit.

"Pardon me," he said, dropping Chris's hand.

_What was that about? _Wyatt asked telepathically.

_"How am I supposed to know,"_ Chris sent back a bit unnerved.

_Well you are the telepath._

_ "I don't just randomly sweep thoughts from peoples' heads, Wyatt. It's rude. The mind is supposed to be a private place."_

_ Right. _

_ "Does he look like Gandalf to you?"_

_ No, why?_

_ "Gee, maybe because I think he does—" _Chris stopped 'speaking' at the wizard's next question.

Albus looked at Leo. "How much do they know?" he inquired.

"Ahhuhhh…" Leo said shifting and glancing at Piper. "Nothing"

Piper, Phoebe, and Paige all turned to their former whitelighter. "Leo…" Piper said dragging the word out and tilting her head. "What don't we know?"

"Ah," Leo said. "Why don't we sit down and the Professor and I will explain everything."

Piper, Phoebe, Leo, Wyatt and Dumbledore made themselves comfortable in the overstuffed chairs, and Chris stretched out on the floor with Paige. Everyone looked at Leo expectantly.

"I don't where to start," Leo stated.

Chris made an 'ahuha' noise from his spot on the floor. "Well Dad, people in situations like this usually find the _beginning_ to be a good place to start or _begin_."

"Why thank you Christopher for you enlightening input now—"

"Anytime."

Leo huffed and Chris obediently took the cue to shut up. "Now I suppose I'll begin with how Professor Dumbledore and I know each other…Wait I need to tell you about his world first."

"His world?" Piper asked. "What do you mean 'his world'?"

"There is a whole other magical world out there besides the Wiccan one," Leo said.

"You mean our world. With the witches, whitelighters, and demons." Chris said.

Leo nodded. "Yes. Before North America was discovered in 1492 only the Wizarding world, the Professor's world, existed. When the colonists and immigrants came to America in the following decades they were cut off from the Wizarding world and evolved overtime into the Wiccan world."

"So there was once one magical world but now there's two, his and ours?" Phoebe asked.

"Yes. Both worlds have the same fundamental magical principles, but how you use them is different. A wizard uses a wand and by saying the right incantation with the right wand movement can draw upon their magic to accomplish whatever they wish. A witch is highly inclined to only certain spells, your powers, and can call on them at will, but witches need written spells to accomplish everything else. A witch also has personal gain consequences while wizards don't. Both magics are tied to the casters emotions, but more so for witches than wizards," Leo explained.

"Wait," Chris said. "So in a nutshell there are two worlds—Wizarding and Wiccan. Wizards wave wands and say fancy words to practice their magic and can do whatever they want, and witches have powers linked to their emotions and write little poems but can't use their magic for themselves?"

"Yeah, that's about it," Leo said amazed at Chris's ability to simplify things. Even Phoebe lost her confused expression.

"Leo," Piper said in that 'tone'. "Why didn't you tell us this before?"

Leo shrugged, "It just never came up."

"Oh, you mean like with magic school, huh?" Piper said still using her 'I'm really annoyed at you' tone.

"Okidoki," Paige said breaking in. "I think we all get that part so you can skip to how you know the Professor."

"The wizarding world doesn't have demons per say, but there are dark wizards, or wizards who use their magic for nefarious purposes. Back in the nineteen seventies a certain dark wizard came into power. He called himself Lord Voldemort. He terrified the wizard and muggle, non-magical, people. His followers are called Death Eaters and people are so afraid of him that they won't even say his name. Anyway, around the time Chris was born Voldemort was at a height in his power. He targeted a family by the name of Potter. Dumbledore put them into hiding and I was signed on as their guardian angel by the Elders so he and I worked together for a bit, just on an off. When the Elders judge necessary, whitelighters will sometimes be assigned to wizards for the sole purpose of protecting a wizard, or if the wizard is a future whitelighter. The Potter's went into hiding, but they were betrayed by a friend who sold them out to Voldemort. He attacked and killed Lily and James, but when he tried to kill Harry, their baby, the spell backfired on him reducing him into something between alive and dead. That night was the last time I spoke to Albus before today. For years people believed Voldemort dead but now he's returned." Leo stopped, "Maybe you should take it from here Albus."

Dumbledore nodded. "Alas, after Harry's parents were killed I placed him in the care of his muggle relatives, and when he turned of age I accepted him to my school, Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"It's a school located in England that teaches the craft to young wizards from the area," Leo interrupted.

The Professor continued, "During Harry's first year Voldemort attempted to return using a Sorcerer's stone, a stone of immortality. In Harry's second year he attempted to return through a memory. And last year, Harry's fourth year, he succeeded in returning. I reactivated the Order of the Phoenix, which is a secret organization pledged to fight against Voldemort. It was disbanded after the death of Lily and James Potter, but with Voldemort's return I believed it to be a necessary step. I am asking for your help in defending against Voldemort and protecting Harry. With Voldemort back in corporal form, gathering even more support, and the wizarding world at large unaware, we are all in great danger."

"Professor we will help in any way possible, but—" Phoebe said.

"There is one more thing," Dumbledore said, "I believe that Voldemort is seeking power from your world, possibly from the demonic side or wiccan, I do not know. However, I do know that he is searching for something and that is a danger to all of us."

"I have an idea." Chris said sitting up.

"Well there's a shocker," Wyatt mumbled. "What is it? To actually think?"

Chris shoved Wyatt of the arm of the chair he was perched on. "No. We go to school."

Everyone stared at him. "Um Chris, sweetie, you already go to school," Paige said as if she were speaking to a five year old.

Chris smirked, "No…we go to Hogwarts."

…

… Everyone fell silent. Utter complete silence.

…

"NO!"

Everyone (except Dumbledore) jumped as Piper practically screeched.

"NO. NO. NO. Not only are you both _grounded_, but it's a _magic_ school under _attack_ from a dark wizard in _England_. NO!"

"Mom just listen, okay. Wyatt and I enroll in the school as wizards in Harry's year. With us there we can protect him while you, Phoebe, Paige, Mr. Dumbledore, and this Order of the Phoenix work on fighting this Lord Voldy guy. Plus I'm guessing that some of the students have got to be children of the Death Feeder peeps so having ears among the students will be extremely beneficial. You can transfer us from our school here and say we're going on a trip in England for the year," Chris said.

"But…but…" Piper stuttered.

Phoebe leaned over to pat her distraught sister's hand. "You got to admit, honey, it's a good plan." Chris smirked. One down, three to go.

Paige nodded, "I agree, the kid makes sense."

Chris grinned. Two down, two to go. "Dad?"

Leo pinched his face. "Ahh…" It _was_ a good plan, it really was, but it would put Chris and Wyatt in a direct firing line. "Yeah, I guess. But there would have to be—"

"Conditions," Piper interrupted. "There will be conditions."

Chris full out smiled now. Score.

_Hey, do I get a say in this?_ Wyatt asked annoyed.

_"No."_ Chris thought, _"Why? Don't you want to go?"_

_ Well, yeah but—_

_ "Then quit complaining."_

"What conditions, Mom?" Wyatt asked.

Piper looked at both her sons. "You call Paige if you even think you're in danger. You check in at least once a day either in person or by phone."

"Ah, Mrs. Halliwell," Dumbledore broke in. "No technology is functional at Hogwarts due to the high concentration magic, and due to protective wards placed around the school magical transportation in and out of the school is impossible. However the boys could send you letters using magic daily or I could supply the three of you with a three-way journey book. It's a group of three books that if something is written in one, it appears in the others as well."

Piper stared at him a moment before nodding. "Fine check in at least once a day by magic journey book. And you take summer courses here because I doubt this Hogwarts school offers Spanish II."

Wyatt and Chris glanced at each other. "Agreed."

Chris paused, "Umm there is one tiny problem…Wy and I aren't wizards and we don't know any spells, wand movements, or things of the wizard world."

"Ah. I believe I have a solution for that." Dumbledore said. "Hogwarts doesn't start for another week and a half. I can have personal tutors get you what you will need and come by here and work with both of you. It will not be much, but I believe you will be able to pick up enough to blend in."

Chris smirked at Wyatt, _"I guess it's a good thing we're fast learners, huh."_

**AND…Cyber cookies, applause, and Congrats to ****yaoifanboy ****and FirePony16 for correctly guessing that the Potter family was attacked the last time Dumbledore and Leo spoke. Yay you!**

**So (darnit, I'm working on that problem I promise) The next chapter will introduce us to the wizarding world…no it really will this time…**

**So (god darn it) until then………………………………….bye.**


	9. Tutor or Demon

**Standard disclaimer applies.**

**Okay…so I admit it…I lied. This chappie will not take us to see the golden trio of the wizarding world and neither will the next one. Oh well…you get more Chris and Wyatt first…**

**Sorry this chap is so short but….**

…**and on with chapter six…enjoy**

Wyatt grabbed the dish of popcorn from the microwave inhaling the buttery scent. Absolute heaven. He cradled the bowl in the crook of his arm, scooping up his soda can as he left the kitchen and settled down in front of the television. He glanced at the clock. Twelve o'clock. Dumbledore had said that the tutor was supposed to show up today. Huh. He wondered what the time difference was between England and California. Oh well…He'd have to ask Chris when he got back.

The moment Dumbledore had left yesterday, Chris had holed himself up in the library at magic school looking through the most old and ratty looking books Wyatt had ever seen. Sensing for his little brother Wyatt wasn't surprised to find him still with his beloved books (second only to his I-pod). Wyatt sighed, reclining back and digging his hand into the popcorn, tossing some in his mouth.

Suddenly a middle age woman appeared in the center of the room with an audible crack. Wyatt yelled in surprise flipping off the chair and throwing popcorn everywhere in the process. "Demon!" he yelled. "Chris!" He flung his hands out at the woman who looked mildly taken aback at his shouts.

Faster than Wyatt anticipated the woman waved what looked like a stick shouting "Portego". Wyatt's jaw dropped in surprise as the demon countered his powers. He waved his hand telekinetically sending the woman's stick flying. Shock registered on the woman's face as she held her hands out palm up and opened her mouth to speak. Chris orbed in just as Wyatt flicked his hands again.

"No!" Chris shouted flinging out a hand and orbing the woman away. She disappeared with a comically surprised look.

"Wha…why?" Wyatt said looking to Chris.

Chris glared at his brother. "She's a wizard you idiot. Probably the tutor and _you_ tried to blow her up," he said poking Wyatt in the chest. A shriek sounded through the house followed by a crash.

Wyatt looked at his brother. "Where'd you orb the lady?" he asked.

The younger witch's eyes widened, "Uh…" He jogged to the conservatory, Wyatt on his heels. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry for orbing you onto the table." Chris said helping the woman up.

"It's alright. I have a feeling it was a better alternative to whatever this does," she said miming flicking her hands like Wyatt.

"That," Chris answered, "would accelerate the atomic molecules your body is made up of, causing them to spontaneously combust resulting in rather nasty burns…so yes, table landing, better alternative."

"Thank you Einstein," Wyatt said. He turned to the wizard, "Sorry for trying to blow you up. Oh and here's your wand."

"Thank you," the woman replied taking her wand. "Why did you attack?" she asked curiously.

"Well you just, you know, _appeared_ in the middle of the room. Just poof…there you were," Wyatt said.

"Yeah and in this house when someone unexpectedly appears out of thin air, the first thought is like _demon_ then _attack_, it's a family complex…so sorry bout that. Oh I'm Chris and this is Wyatt."

Both boys shook hands with the woman.

"My name is Sonya. I'm your tutor."

"_Told you."_

_Shut up._

"Nice to meet you," Chris said.

"So are your parents here?" Sonya asked looking around.

"No. Our mom runs a club and restaurant, and our father is a mechanic on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and he's as teacher at magic school Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. He works a lot," Chris said.

"Ah so for the majority of the time it will just be me and you two," Sonya concluded, "So shall we begin now? You have roughly five days to learn about five years of magic."

Wyatt looked at Chris wide eyed. _Five days for five years…_

"_It'll be fine." _The boys followed Sonya back to the room she had first appeared in. Chris gasped as he saw the popcorn this time not having to be concerned with saving the tutor from becoming extra crispy. _"You are so cleaning that up." _Wyatt scowled and orbed the popcorn into the garbage. Sonya picked up a bag she had dropped sitting it on the coffee table.

"Okay boys. I took the liberty of picking up the things you will need and Dumbledore had wands specially made for both of you. We're hoping you'll be able to learn to use," Sonya said pulling out book after book, two cauldrons, and several unidentifiable parcels from the deceivingly small bag.

Chris cleared his throat. "Sonya, I have a question."

"What is it Chris?" she asked smiling.

The brunet witch took a deep breath, "What's Avada Kedavra?"

Sonya dropped the package she was holding looking at Chris sharply. "Why?" she demanded.

"Please, just answer the question," Chris said softly.

Sonya stared at him a bit before answering, "It's a killing curse. When cast it causes a flash of green light and the victim dies immediately with no mark of death. It is one of the three Unforgivable Curses and is never to be cast by either of you, understood."

"Yes," both boys said in unison.

_Chris what was that about? _

"_The case for Darrel. The family was killed by wizards with Avada Kedavra._

_Wizards? Do you think it was those Death Eaters?_

"_Yeah"_

_You know what this means, right?_

"_There already here. There're already searching_


	10. Crash Course

**Disclaimer: I no own Charmed or Harry Potter…ever.**

**I'M BACK…bet ya'll were getting impatient. Sorry for taking so long *rolls eyes* but I had so much crap to do with school and all that stuff and every time I tried to zone out in class or write the teacher just **_**had**_** call on me so yeah…**

…**But I got you two chapters this time so all forgiven, yes**

**Anyhoo…I'll stop rambling and get on with the story…Enjoy.**

**Chapter Seven**

"Right," Sonya said. "Before we start anything magical we must develop your backgrounds. Dumbledore and I have decided that you'll be transfer students from America. It's extremely uncommon, but not unheard of. You'll be children of half-blood wizards who have relatively integrated themselves into the muggle society here in the U.S.. So all we have to do now is work out the finer details concerning your individual identities, including whether or not you'll say you're related, names, and so forth."

"Wait…" Wyatt said holding up a hand, "Can't we just say we're two wizard brothers from America named Chris and Wyatt?"

"Yes," Sonya answered, "You can, but if you do, I suggest you change your last name and say that you're twins."

"Why twins?" Chris asked.

"Because Dumbledore has decided to place both of you in your fifth year, Harry's year, even though according to your ages, you," Sonya replied nodding to Chris, "would be in your fourth year and Wyatt in his sixth."

Wyatt pinched his eyebrows together in confusion, "But we don't even look alike in the slightest. How could we be twins?"

Chris gaped at his brother before reaching over to slap him on the back of the head. "Because, genius, we don't have to be _identical_ twins. We can be fraternal."

"Fraternal?" Wyatt said

"Yes, Wy. It means we would be the same age, hence being in the same year, but not look alike."

"I know what it means," Wyatt said defensively.

"Well, there's a shocker," Chris drawled.

Wyatt opened his mouth to retort, when Sonya cleared her throat loudly capturing both boys attention. "Can we get back on track, please?"

"Sorry," Chris said smiling innocently, "so we go in as fraternal twins, transfer students from America, previously homeschooled, born from a half-blood family, Chris and Wyatt Matthews. Simple."

Wyatt nodded, "Sounds good to me. How bout you, Teach?"

"Yes. Just be sure both of you go over details of your home life, so if anyone asks you can tell the same story. Wouldn't want the twins claiming they were born on different days, would we?" Sonya said.

"Nope," Chris said. _"As amusing as it would be."_

_Only you would think something that could blow our cover to be amusing._

Chris just smirked at his brother and shrugged.

"Well then. Now that that's cleared up," Sonya said pulling two very large textbooks from her bag. "Let's get started, shall we?"

†††

"This is hopeless." Wyatt thunked his head down on the book he was reading with a moan. "Utterly and entirely hopeless."

Chris looked up from the book he was studying, _"What's hopeless?"_

"This!" Wyatt said empathically, flinging his arms out as if to encompass the entire situation. "Learning all of this in _five days_, Chris, it's impossible."

Chris carefully marked his page and shut his book. He peered at his brother intently who shifted under the intense gaze. "Well aren't you just happy ray of sunshine." Chris leaned back in his seat, continuing to stare at Wyatt. "We've been at this for oh, only about eight hours, and you're already giving up."

Wyatt shook his head, "I'm not giving up. I—I just don't see how we're going to pull this off. We're going into a school full of people trained for years how to be wizards and we are only going to have five days of training, barely even basics."

"We can pull this off, Wy, and we will. Five days is going to be plenty to obtain the basics," Chris said reassuringly. "We already have potions down. It's pretty much the same as the wiccan. And Herbology kinda goes with that, so we're good there. We know some astronomy and divination. Care of Magical Creatures will be a breeze, we'll just learn along with the rest of the class; same with History of Magic. The rest is just memorizing spells for Charms and Transfiguration. Which is what we will spend most of the next three days doing. Sonya said most of them are Latin based and, as of now, both you and I are fluent in Latin so we'll catch on quickly. At worst, our classmates will just think we're idiots."

"How do you know we'll even be able to actually use the wands?" Wyatt asked.

"Because our ancestors used them to channel their magic. Theoretically we still possess that same fundamental magic. We just need to learn how to channel it through the wands is all. As witches we channel our magic through emotions and bodily actions, like waving our hands or narrowing our eyes, whereas wizards use wands. My theory is we will be able to use the wands well enough to appear to be wizards, but we won't ever be able to pull off some of the more powerful spells or even some of the simple spells because our magic isn't designed to be channeled through wooden sticks."

When Wyatt frowned and looked unconvinced, Chris sighed and said, "Look, Wy, deception is like eighty-five percent projection and ten percent knowledge. If we act like we know what we are doing and talking about, people will buy it."

Wyatt smiled at his little brother. "You know, sometimes you are such an Elder," he said.

Chris scowled at him, opening his book to continue studying, _"Well what can I say, Wy, it's a blood disease."_

The blonde shook his head, "So. What's the other five percent of deception?"

Chris smirked, _"Luck."_

†††

"Shield?"

"Portego." Chris answered wearily.

Sonya nodded, "Good. To unlock a door?"

"Alohomora."

"Good. Spell to move a selected target?"

Chris sighed, "Uh, Locomotor."

Wyatt chuckled quietly feeling sympathy for his baby brother having been drilled earlier by their gung-ho tutor. Sonya had been quizzing the brothers all morning on what they had learned the past two days and hoped to get them using the wands today.

"Right," Sonya nodded, "To silence a target?"

Chris opened his mouth to respond then snapped it shut with a confused and slightly frustrated look. "Ahh…Se taire."

Wyatt burst out laughing, quickly stifling it at Sonya's glare. _That's not even Latin, Chris._

Chris shot a glare at Wyatt. _"So." _He looked back at Sonya who had raised her eyebrows. "Um…Tace?"

"No." She answered shortly.

Chris sighed, dropping his head into his hands. He sat quietly for a long moment. "Silencio," he mumbled, "It's Silencio."

"Yes," Sonya praised. "What is the function of Accio?

"To summon an object."

She continued quizzing Chris for a couple of minutes asking the functions or names of spells. Wyatt sat impatiently bouncing his foot. He was incredibly nervous and excited to actually try casting spells. He just hoped that Chris and Dumbledore were right and they would be able to use the wands.

"All right, boys," Sonya said rubbing her hands together, "I do believe it is time to break out the wands."

"_Congratulations. You have completed your word memorization training. Please proceed to stick waving 101 with Tutor Gung-Ho." _

Wyatt clamped his mouth shut at Chris's comment, struggling not to laugh, and if Sonya noticed she drew no attention to it.

"Okay, so as I said when we first met, Dumbledore commissioned wands to be specifically made for the two of you," Sonya said handing slender boxes to each brother.

"_Wow. I feel special."_

_Really, cause you're missing you helmet._

"_Nope. I lent it to a friend."_

_Oh. Who?_

"_Dunno what his name is, but he's about six foot, blonde, low on the IQ scale, kinda stocky, likes waving his hands…"_

_Ahhuh, _Wyatt thought back absently not realizing Chris was describing him.

"So," Sonya continued, "Each wand has elements unique to each of you. Wyatt, yours is ten inches, oak, with a core of a strand of hair from a witch and whitelighter. Chris, yours is eleven inches, made from the Elder tree, with a core of a witch's hair and thread from the robe of an elder."

Both boys pulled out their respective wands for inspection. Chris ran his hands along his wand. It was a simple design, elaborate, but somehow simple all the same. It was a grayish white color reminding Chris of marble. An intricate spiral pattern covered the wand, compressed on the handle and spread out on the rest. It was beautiful. Chris wrapped his hand around the handle, feeling the unevenly spaced swirls press into his palm. He sucked in a breath feeling an unfamiliar _thrum_ of power flow though his body and soul.

Startled Chris turned to Wyatt, _"Did you—did it…" _

_Send a really warm and fuzzy feeling from my head to my toes? Yes. _Wyatt turned his wand over in his hands. Unlike Chris's there was no pattern on his wand. It was smooth with a hilt-like band wrapped around the handle to grip. The wand felt warm in Wyatt's hands, and was a dusky gold hue.

Chris blinked at his brother. Warm and fuzzy feeling? That wasn't exactly how he would explain it, but maybe it was different for each individual. He didn't know how to describe the feeling his wand gave him. It was cool and intoxicating, a sort of rush of power or adrenaline, but not.

"Okay boys," Sonya said, "are you ready to try some spells."

The boys grinned at each other. "Why not?" Wyatt said.

Sonya smiled. "Alright. We'll start simple. I want you to summon that ball of yarn," she said pointing to a skein sitting on a table across the room. "Who's first?"

"Chris is." Wyatt said quickly, pushing his little brother forward. Chris scowled but kept his mouth shut.

"Okay Chris. Just focus on your magic and what you want to happen. Remember to speak clearly and channel through the wand," Sonya said.

"Right." Chris nodded. "Focus, speak clearly, and channel through a wooden stick. Easy." He took a deep breath concentrating on the ball of yarn.

"Accio."

Nothing happened. "Try again," Sonya said. No really, is that what I should do, Chris thought sarcastically.

"Accio." Nothing. Chris sighed. Maybe he was wrong and they couldn't use wizarding magic.

Or maybe they just couldn't use the wands. Chris set his wand down ignoring the confused expressions from the other people in the room. Maybe… "Accio," he said holding out his hand like he would to summon something with his telekinesis.

The yarn soared across the room, landing in Chris's outstretched hand. He smiled, turning to his brother with raised eyebrows. Sonya stared at Chris in amazement, her lips slightly parted in shock.

"It would seem that their natural instincts to channel through their bodies is interfering with their ability to channel their magic through, ah, wooden sticks as I believe you like to call them, Christopher."

All three people in the room turned as Dumbledore walked into the room.

"But—but, Professor, how is it that, untrained as he is, he is still able to do something that many wizards—"

"You are forgetting, my dear, that witches are taught to channel their magic through themselves, not wands," Dumbledore said.

"But we should be able to learn, right?" Chris asked.

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore, "you simply need to practice. In the wizarding world, students are trained from the beginning of their magical education to channel their magic though wands. Witches are trained to use gestures and emotions. What you must do is learn how to channel your magic not only through yourself but through your wands."

Wyatt looked at Chris and nodded. _Makes sense._

"_Yeah. All we have to do is pretend we have wooden stick hands and we'll be good."_

_You make it sound easy._

"_Please, pretending a wooden stick is my hand? Piece of friggin' pumpkin pie."_

_You hate pumpkin pie._

"_Exactly."_

"Well," Dumbledore spoke again, "To get to the point of my visit. I came to inform you that, although term begins on September first, I will be picking you both up at eleven o'clock at night on September first, which would make it seven in the morning on September second at Hogwarts, in order to give you maximum time with Sonya. Both of you will be sorted at breakfast and your belonging delivered to your respective dormitories."

"We're going to be sorted?" Chris asked, "Wouldn't it make more sense to just put us in the same house as Harry?"

"Alas, perhaps. But if you are attending Hogwarts, you must be sorted by our requirements," Dumbledore stated.

"Okay," Wyatt said, "works for me."

"Right. So," Chris said, "We should get back to learning how to think of our wands as wooden extensions of our hands."

Dumbledore smiled, "I wish you luck," he said disappearing with a crack.

_I will never get used to that._ Wyatt said, thought resounding in Chris's mind.

"Alright boys, lets practice," Sonya said rubbing her hands together.

Chris sighed. In under four days he and Wyatt would be in England, studying wizarding magic with a bunch of wand-waving British people, and on top of that, they would have serious jet lag. God. Hogwarts had better have coffee.

**Dun, dun, dun…enter coffee**

…**whoa weird…..**

**Oh for anyone who didn't immediately stop reading and Google (like I would have) what Chris said in the foreign languages for what spell silences something:**

**Se Taire—is French for 'Shut up'**

**Tace—is Latin for 'Be Silent'**

**Yeah, so thanks for reading and reviewing….**


	11. Enter Golden Trio

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Charmed.**

**Hey! We finally made it to a chapter with our favorite wizard trio. Ha you thought we'd never get here huh? Well neither did I, but here we are.**

**A Thank you to all of my reviewers…THANK YOU! And to all my readers…THANK YOU! All of ya'll really make writing this so much more rewarding. **

**So…on with the show….**

**AN: I wish to inform everyone that some parts of this may be direct-semi direct parts from the fifth Harry Potter book so anything you recognize—credit is all J.K. Rowling's. **

**Chapter Eight**

_**September 1**__**stish**___

(AN: Okay instead of writing out the first nine chapters of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, I, ProtoZivot, am simply going to assume that you have either a) read the book b) seen the movie (as lacking as it was) or c) have read the book _and_ seen the movie. So… If you haven't (or have and forgotten) I will supply a quick recap before starting the trio out already at Hogwarts…If you have read the book and/or seen the movie and have _not _forgotten please feel free to skip the recap)

_~Previously in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix/The Other Side~_

Harry is staying with his muggle relatives for the summer, waiting anxiously for news from the wizarding on Voldemort. During a rare moment of ah…understanding with Dudley, he and his cousin are attacked by dementors and Harry is forced to use magic to fight them off. The ministry uses this ah…incident to try and expel Harry from Hogwarts. Harry is retrieved from his muggle home by the Order of the Phoenix and taken to stay with Sirius, Hermione, and the Weasleys at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. At the hearing, the ministry tries to expel Harry, but Dumbledore comes to his rescue. However the Professor "ignores"Harry which upsets him. He returns to Number 12 for the rest of the summer. Hermione and Ron are made prefects and the trio boards the Hogwarts Express where they meet Luna Lovegood and learn Malfoy has been made the prefect of Slytherin.

_~Now~_

Harry walked into the Great Hall with a sigh of relief. This, this was his home and he was back. Yes he was sure that many of his fellow students would think he was a liar. He knew many of them would want details of the end of last year. He was still worried about Hagrid, having not seen him the group of first years, but he was glad to be back. Luna wondered off to the Ravenclaw table and Ginny went to sit with some of her fellow fourth years. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville sat halfway down the Gryffindor table. Harry scanned the staff table looking for Hagrid, half hopeful he would be there. "He's not there."

"Who?" Ron asked looking at the table.

"Hagrid, Ron," Hermione said, "He's not there."

"He can't have left, could he?" Ron said anxiously.

"Of course he didn't," Harry said. The table fell silent.

"You—you don't think he's _hurt_ or anything do you?" Hermione whispered softly.

"No," Harry said. He lowered his voice, "He's probably just not back yet—you know from his mission."

Ron nodded sufficiently reassured, but Hermione bit her lip scanning the staff table again. "Dumbledore is missing too," Hermione said surprised. Harry searched the head table again shocked he had missed it at first.

"Where do you think _he _is?" he asked. Ron and Hermione shrugged.

"Who's that?" Hermione said sharply inclining her head at the staff table. Harry followed her gaze to a plump short pink woman speaking with one of the other Professors.

"Bloody hell. It's that Umbridge woman!"

"Who?" Ron said.

Harry leaned in closer to his friends. "Umbridge…er…Dolores Umbridge, I think. She was at my hearing. She works for Fudge."

"Why is she here?" asked Ron.

"I dunno…" Harry shook his head.

Hermione scanned the table, "No," she whispered, "Surely not…"

Harry was about to ask what was 'surely not' but was distracted by the appearance of Professor Grubby-Plank; well the first years were across the lake now so any moment...

The doors to the Great Hall swung open and in walked Professor McGonagall trailed by a line of uneasy and awed looking first years. Silence descended on the hall as McGonagall sat a stool down and placed the Sorting Hat on it before stepping back. The rip on the rim of the hat opened as the hat broke into a song…

_In times of old when I was new_

_And Hogwarts barely started_

_The founders of our noble school _

_Thought never to be parted:_

_United by a common goal,_

_They had the selfsame yearning,_

The hat continued to sing the song as it did every year and Harry found himself relaxed, allowing the words to wash over him while he observed the first years. Many of them looked scared and apprehensive. Harry remembered how nervous he had felt waiting for the unknown test of how he was to be sorted. The hat continued to sing but the words were different now turning ominous, menacing…

_For our Hogwarts is in danger_

_From external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_

_Or we'll crumble from within._

_I have told you, I have warned you…_

_Let the Sorting now begin._

The three friends looked at each other.

"Blimy," Ron breathed, "What was that about?"

"It was a warning, Ronald," Hermione said sounding rather annoyed. "I wonder if the hat has ever giving warnings before?"

Professor McGonagall had started calling names and the Hufflepuff table was cheering for their latest addition.

"It has indeed Miss. Granger." Harry jumped as a voice spoke directly behind him. Nearly Headless Nick leaned around Harry. "You see the hat believes itself to be somewhat duty bound to care for the school."

The sorting continued (for a long time, Harry swore he could hear Ron's stomach growling ever minute on the minute) with each house welcoming their respective first years. After the hat was done, McGonagall removed the stool and hat before standing at the head table. "To our new students…welcome to Hogwarts. To our familiar faces...we welcome you back." McGonagall smiled down at all the students. "Speeches will follow but for now…enjoy the feast."

And with that said the trio dug into the start-of-term feast. Chatter grew throughout the hall as friends caught up from over the summers and new students talked with their older housemates.

Harry ate heartily but couldn't help wondering where Dumbledore was. He was the headmaster of the school and with Hagrid's absence as well, and the dead looking horses pulling the carriages only he (out of his friends) could see, he felt like his return to Hogwarts, however relieving, was full of unwanted surprises. Joining in on the talk around the table though Harry was able to put those worries on the back burner if only for a bit.

As everyone finished off their desserts Professor McGonagall stood and silence fell across the hall. Hermione sat up straighter as McGonagall began her speech.

"As I'm sure you all know I am the Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall. Due to unforeseen circumstances our Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, was unable to attend the start-of-term feast and for that he wishes to sincerely apologize. However, he will be returning tomorrow and he wants all students to be present in the hall at seven-fifteen sharp tomorrow morning. Now I wish you all to pay attention for our start-of-term notices.

First years—you should know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to inform all of you _again _that no magic is permitted in corridors between classes, nor are numerous other things, a list of which can be found fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

There are two staff changes this year. We are pleased to welcome back Professor Grubby-Plank who will be instructing our Care of Magical Creatures course. And we are _delighted _to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of applause (a small one) for the new teachers. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged apprehensive looks. McGonagall hadn't said how long Grubby-Plank would be teaching.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the—" Professor McGonagall broke off with a sharp look at the Umbridge lady, "Yes?"

It was then that a majority of the students realized that Umbridge had gotten to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

"Thank you, Professor, for those kind words of welcome," Umbridge simpered. "But, if I may, I would like to address the students for a moment," she continued with a tone that said she would whether McGonagall liked it or not.

McGonagall stared at Umbridge a moment, pressing her mouth into the thinnest line Harry had seen yet, and gave a short nod before taking her seat.

"Thank you, Minerva." Umbridge cleared her throat "hem, hem" before launching head first into what Harry deemed the most boring speech ever spoken. He felt himself zone out after the first couple words focusing instead on his fellow students in the hall. He could see Cho over at the Ravenclaw table chatting with her friends and Malfoy was sitting at the Slytherin table levitating a spoon. Harry heard Ron sigh beside him and glanced at his friend who was staring at the table with the utmost interest.

Hermione, however, sat up straighter with every word the ministry lady said. Her eyes were narrowed and she had an expression of complete concentration. Harry wondered why and just decided he would ask her after the speech was over.

Harry sighed heavily, allowing his eyes to roam around the hall picking out new and familiar faces. He jumped in surprise as the staff table suddenly applauded although none to enthusiastically. Most of the students in the hall were caught off guard as well and before they could properly applaud, McGonagall had stood back up to speak again. "Thank you, Professor. That was very…enlightening. Now as I was saying Quidditch tryouts will be held—"

"McGonagall's right," Hermione murmured, "very illuminating."

"What? Are you saying you enjoyed that?" Ron asked.

"No Ronald, I said it was illuminating not enjoyable."

"What was illuminating about it? I didn't catch anything." Harry said with interest.

Hermione leveled him with her gaze. "Harry, did you even pay attention?" When Harry just shrugged, Hermione sighed deciding to ignore him. "There was some extremely important information hidden in that lovely speech."

"There was?" Ron asked blankly.

"Yes. The 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged', and the 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited' and—"

"But what does that mean?" Harry said impatiently.

"It means," Hermione said slowly, "that the Ministry is interfering with Hogwarts."

**So…Good? Bad? Anyone have any thoughts? Anything? Yes? No?**

**Well please review…Shalom **


	12. American Mystery

**I'm baaacckkk… **

**God, I am like so, so sorry for the slow update. I got a little distracted with my other ideas running around in my mind…I tell ya its scary in there. Yeah so I was working on this and then I got this urge to work on my other story 'Series of Unfortunate Events' (Chris lovers should check it out) and a new plot bunny running a mile a minute in my head 'Drag Me Under'. *Shakes head* and no neither one of them are updated on here either so I like got nowhere…*sigh***

**Yeah so again so sorry but here is the next chapter to the story you're actually reading…**

**Disclaimer: Standard. I own nothing…except maybe a cookie or a…oh never mind you get the point **

**Enjoy…**

**Chapter Nine**

"Why do you reckon Dumbledore wants all of us down there at exactly seven-fifteen?" Ron asked yawning. The trio was walking down the corridors to breakfast to get ready to face their first day of torture, uh I mean, classes.

"I don't know," Harry replied.

"Well what do you think, Hermione?" questioned Ron.

Hermione shrugged. "I haven't got a clue. Maybe he just wants to address everyone today since he wasn't there last night."

The three entered the hall taking seats at the end of the Gryffindor table. Several first years slid away from Harry sending him fearful sidelong looks. Harry sighed ignoring them, and wondered how much more of this he would have to put up with before everyone realized he and Dumbledore weren't raving, lying lunatics, and Voldemort really _was_ back. He scooped food on his plate before taking a bite.

"What time is it?" Ron asked around a mouthful of food.

Hermione shot him a disapproving look. "Seven-fourteen," she answered looking at the head table. Hermione frowned, "Dumbledore's not there."

Harry looked up, "Wha—"

Just then the door off to the side of the head table opened, and in walked Dumbledore followed by two teenage boys and McGonagall, who was carrying the Sorting Hat. Immediately a hush fell across the Great Hall as everyone stared at the Headmaster and the two new arrivals. Hermione studied the two boys. They weren't first years that was obvious. They looked to be around her age, and both seemed completely at ease even though the entire hall was staring at them. She watched as the taller, curly blonde haired boy leaned over and whispered something in the others ear. The smaller brunet stifled a laugh covering his mouth with his hand, ignoring the severe look McGonagall shot his way.

"Good morning," Dumbledore said smiling out at the students. "I would like to begin by sincerely apologizing for my absence at the start of term feast last evening. I trust that everyone enjoyed themselves? I extend a warm and overdue welcome to all our new students, welcome to Hogwarts, and to our old hands, welcome back."

"Now I believe I would be correct to assume that many of you are curious as to my whereabouts yesterday evening," Dumbledore stated more than asked, looking at our three young wizards. Ron glanced sheepishly at Harry who just smiled. Yeah, Dumbledore knew the three of them well.

Dumbledore gestured to the two boys to join him. "Circumstances here are uncommon, but I would like to personally introduce Hogwarts two newest students—Wyatt and Chris Matthews." Both boys gave a small half-wave like motion to their new peers at the introductions. "Now," Dumbledore continued, "Chris and Wyatt They will be joining the fifth years, so I ask all of our fifth years to make them feel welcomed. Also they are transferring in from America and America handles her magical population differently than we do here, so I expect all of you to do your best to make them comfortable here.," he finished glancing again at the trio.

Hermione sat back looking shocked, silently mouthing the word 'America' over and over. Harry observed the two foreign students. He had never thought about whether or not there were wizards in America or other continents. Harry gave a mental shrug figuring there was no reason for there not to be.

McGonagall walked forward, beckoned the blonde boy over, and placed the sorting hat on his head.

†††

Chris watched as the older woman sat the ratty looking hat on Wyatt's head. Initially when Dumbledore had told Chris that he and Wy were going too sorted like normal students, he'd been a touch put off and annoyed. Why on earth did they need to be sorted? It made more sense to him to just place him and Wy in Gryffindor with the kid they were supposed to be protecting. But now that Chris was here, he had to admit he was a bit curious to see what houses they would be put in.

Chris had, unlike Wyatt, read up on the houses learning what made each one different from another and had been astounded to learn that the Wizards of old who founded the school actually managed to spell a hat to be able to see a person's soul. The Sorting hat was able to look _inside _a person and judge them. It was kinda unsettling to think about.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted suddenly. Chris clapped along with the rest of the hall as Wyatt returned the hat and sat down next to a bushy haired girl, a vibrant redhead, and a dark haired kid with glasses. Harry Potter Chris realized which would make the others Hermione and Ronald.

Chris bit his lip nervously, not that he'd let anyone know, as McGonagall sat the hat on his head. He frowned as it slipped down almost blocking his line of sight feeling like a complete idiot. 'Obviously Wy's head is bigger than mine', Chris thought absently.

It was only though being a Halliwell, living through many a stranger situations, and typically being fairly adjusted after fourteen years that Chris didn't automatically attempt to vanquish the hat when its sly voice whispered in his head. 'How come none of the books mentioned that?', Chris thought irritated.

"Well, well, well. You are a challenge, aren't you?"

"_A challenge? Why?"_

"I sense a great thirst for knowledge, intelligence and wit. You would do fine in Ravenclaw. Loyal as well, like your brother. Cunning, resourceful, and ambitious too. And you're self-sacrificing, courageous. You have little value for your own life when compared to others, yes? Hmm."

"I place you in…SLYTHERIN!"

…

Chris blinked as the table on the far right broke out cheering. He handed the hat back to the Wizard lady, numbly walking over to the Slytherin table and sitting by a tall blonde boy who shot him a scathing look. 'Well,' he thought, 'that was…unexpected.' He frowned feeling Wyatt's probing thoughts and reached out to hear them.

_Chris? What is it?_

Chris sighed, giving the mental equivalent of shaking his head, telling Wy to mind his own business.

_Fine_. Wyatt thought moodily.

"_Geez, Wy. It's nothing, okay? Just wasn't expecting it is all."_

_Yeah. Okay._

Chris could tell he wasn't convinced but the Elders knew he wasn't gonna do anything to fix it. He'd just talk to him later. 'For now', he thought turning to the pale blonde boy, 'I need to get to know my new house mates.'

†††

Harry stared at the new Gryffindor wondering if this was the Chris or the Wyatt, and watched as he clapped with the rest of the hall when his brother was sorted into Slytherin. It was odd that the two brothers were sorted into the two complete opposite houses. He knew siblings didn't always follow in the same houses, but he thought most generally did, like the Weasleys. Harry observed the American as he turned back to the table scanning all the food choices before selecting the generic eggs and bacon breakfast. He looked up then, extending his hand across the table to Harry.

"Hi," he said, "I'm Wyatt Matthews." Mystery one solved.

"Harry Potter," Harry replied shaking Wyatt's hand and waiting for the '_You're_ Harry Potter' reaction and inspection of his forehead. He was surprised then when Wyatt merely nodded and shifted his gaze and hand to Hermione.

"Hermione Granger," she said.

"Nice to meet you," said Wyatt. "And you?" he asked turning to Ron.

"Ron Weasley."

"So," Hermione said, "You're from America?"

"Yeah. California actually. I'm from San Francisco.," Wyatt answered taking a bite of his food.

"So why are you transferring here?" Harry asked.

"Um," Wyatt replied, "Well, Chris and I were homeschooled for the most part, but since we reached O.W.L level our mom decided she wanted us to get a more complete education or something so she sent us here," he finished shrugging. "Something about it being her old school and knowing Dumbledore or whatnot. It was kinda a last minute decision thing which is why we arrived today and not yesterday like the rest of y'all."

"Oh. And Chris is your brother?" Hermione asked. "How is it that you're both in the same year? I mean…" she frowned trailing off, probably trying to figure out how they were in the same year before Wyatt answered.

"Chris and I are twins," Wyatt said.

Hermione blinked making and 'oh' face, but Ron shared a confused expression with Harry before asking, "How? Neither one of you look anything—"

"Like the other?" Wyatt finished chuckling. "Yeah people say that all the time, and Chris and I are really like polar opposites. We're only fraternal twins which means, according to Chris, we're entirely two different people and the only thing we have in common is a birth date and gender," he explained.

"Huh. That's kinda weird mate," Ron said shoveling a forkful of hash browns in his mouth.

"No it's not Ronald," Hermione scolded. "In fact fraternal twins a more common than maternal."

"Are maternal twins the identical ones?" Ron asked.

Wyatt laughed, "Yes they are. And for the record, I agree with you on the weird thing." He glanced around before changing the subject. "So. How do we know what classes we have?"

"Are head of house, which is McGonagall, will give us our schedules," Harry answered. "You should have mostly the same classes as us so we can show you the way."

"That's good, because I have to tell you, I have like zero sense of direction," Wyatt replied.

Professor McGonagall moved over to the trio and witch handing them their schedules. "Here you are, Weasley, Granger, Potter," she said handing them each papers. "And Mr. Matthews. We gave you the courses that were discussed and you may find yourself a bit below our grade level here but I'm sure if you work hard you'll do just fine."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll do my best," Wyatt replied politely.

"I'm sure you will," McGonagall said moving on down the table.

Ron groaned loudly reading off his schedule for today. "Look at this! History of Magic, double Potions, Divination, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts…Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and the Umbridge woman all in one day. Wonderful…" he ranted trailing off at the end.

Harry moaned in agreement as Wyatt stared at them uncomprehendingly. "I take it all those teachers are like really sucky, yes?" he asked.

"Sucky?" Harry repeated. "No they're dreadful. Entirely and all encompassing awful. Binns is the History of Magic professor. He's a ghost and I guarantee you his will put you to sleep in ten minutes flat. Snape is the head of Slytherin house and the potions master. He hates Gryffindors and me especially. Trelawney teaches divination and, well she…um you'll just have to see for yourself, and Umbridge is from the ministry so she falls under awful by default."

"Wow," Wyatt said. He blew out a short puff of air. "So does your school _have_ any good teachers?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "Professor McGonagall a great instructor, and then there's Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout…"

The four left the hall while Hermione continued listing the professors at Hogwarts.

"What's your schedule, Matthews?" Harry asked.

Wyatt blinked bringing back his attention from searching for Chris when he realized Harry was talking to him. "Oh," he said glancing at his paper, "Same as yours like you said." Wyatt craned his neck still trying to look over all the other students' heads.

Harry stared at the American bewildered. "What in the world are you doing?" he asked.

"Hmmm," was the reply he got.

"What are you doing?" Harry repeated.

"Oh, I'm looking for my brother…found him," Wyatt said.

Harry followed Wyatt's gaze and indeed spotted the brunet American talking to, of all the people in the world, Malfoy. Well, Malfoy was talking and Chris was listening with a politely interested expression. Harry saw him say something to Malfoy and walk away when he spotted them.

"Hey," Chris said coming up to the group of four.

"Hey," Wyatt replied. The brothers glanced at each other and Harry got the feeling that something passed between them that he didn't know of. "Um Chris, this is Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Harry, Ron, Hermione this is Chris."

"Hi," Chris said.

"Hi," the trio responded.

Harry studied the two brothers as they walked to History of Magic. Wyatt had been right when he said he and Chris were total opposites. Wyatt was tall, a good four inches taller than Chris, with a muscular build. He had short blonde hair just long enough that one could tell it was curly, slightly tanned skin, and kina sky blue color eyes. Whereas Chris was shorter, smaller with a slender build, probably wicked fast on a broom, and had shaggy dark brown hair that fell into his face. His skin was a pale olive tone and his eyes a startling sage green color.

Chris was undeniably the more timid of the two as well. Where Wyatt had struck up a conversation of…waffles?!...with Ron and even had Hermione laughing, Chris was simply walking along quietly beside his brother.

Harry shook his head. Definitely not what he would consider normal Slytherin behavior. But…he didn't know what…but something was telling Harry that nothing about these two new American wizards would be normal.

**All righty. **

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	13. Intellectual Wasteland

**If I owned either one this wouldn't be fanfiction…it'd just be fiction…if only *shakes head***

**Sorry for the long, long, long, long…wait. But here's chapter ten finally. **

**Thanks so much for the reviews. Warms my heart.**

**Enjoy**

**AN: I apologize for any errors. It was late, and I didn't read over it but I wanted to get it up for you guys…so just ignore any mistakes or point them out…I don't care**

**Chapter Ten**

"R," Harry whispered.

Ron smiled wickedly and shook his head. He wrote an r down next to a long list of letters and added a second leg to Harry's soon to be dead man.

The trio and Matthew brothers were currently in the process of suffering through the first of many to come, incredibly long, and impossibly boring lecture from Professor Binns about the Great Wars. Harry and Ron were playing hangman, Wyatt was staring blankly out in space with an exceedingly dazed look, Chris was catching up on his sleep having dozed off after half a page of note taking, and Hermione was on her twelfth page of notes and alternately glaring at each of the four boys.

This continued for another half an hour. Hermione added six more pages of notes, Ron beat Harry at hangman with a score of ten to three, Wyatt daydreamed an entire make believe story in which he rid the world of school, and Chris got an extra hour or so of sleep.

The bell rang suddenly, causing Chris to jolt awake, and Wyatt to fall out of his seat. The five students gathered up their stuff to leave the room and head off to their dooms, err, I mean Potions.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Chris demanded of his brother as he shoved his book in his bag.

"You were sleeping." Wyatt said.

"Yeah, Wy, hence the need of the act of waking," Chris retorted, "I don't suppose you took notes?" he asked accusingly.

"Uh..."

"Yeah I didn't think so."

Wyatt and Chris followed the trio out of the class room assuming they had next period with them as well.

"At least Chris has the decency to realize he should have been taking notes," Hermione was saying to Ron and Harry. "What would you two do if I refused to share my notes with you this year?"

Ron grinned at her, "We'd fail, Hermione," he answered, "and I do not believe you want that on your conscience."

Hermione glared at Ron, but didn't retort meaning that, yes, she would share her infinite wisdom with them yet again.

"Where are we going now?" Wyatt said, breaking into the conversation as they descended the grand staircase to the first floor.

"Um…Double Potions with Professor Snape. It's in the dungeon." Harry answered.

"You have dungeons in a school?" Chris asked sounding shocked.

"Yeah…they're not actually dungeons, they're just the rooms below the first floor," Harry explained wondering why a Slytherin was surprised that there were dungeons. They lived down there after all.

"Oh. What was wrong with the word basement?" Chris said.

"I have no idea," Harry admitted. Truth be told, he'd never given a thought to why they called the dungeons the dungeons. Maybe it was an American thing to question everything.

"Ahhuh," Chris said proceeding to mutter something about wand waving wizards and their dramatizing. Harry looked at him perplexed as they entered the dungeons. They joined the group of students standing outside the door of death.

Snape opened his door allowing the students to enter. Harry, Ron and Hermione headed for their usual table in the back, Wyatt followed, and so did Chris after a split second hesitation of deciding to sit with his charge or try and learn more about Draco Malfoy, son of a rather well known, but still home free, Death Eater.

"Good morning class," Professor Snape said in that uniquely Snapeish way that made the morning anything but good. Actually Snape's mere presence made the morning anything but good.

"Before we begin today's lesson," Snape continued staring at the class, "We have some things to…discuss."

"As all of you ought to know this year is liable to be more…_difficult_ than those preceding. I will have you know that I expect each and every one of you to scrape at least an A in your O.W.L.S., yes even you Longbottom," he added at Neville's uncomfortably fearful look.

"Also, I only accept students who achieve an O into my N.E.W.T level class. As such, realizing that some of you are utter morons, I presume that many of us will be saying goodbye," Snape said softly. Harry glared at Snape feeling a perverse sense of almost overwhelming joy that he'd be able to finally ditch Potions.

"Unfortunately, we still have a year before that delightful occasion. We will start by brewing the Draught of Peace. I warn you to be careful and _follow_ the instructions precisely. If you are to light handed with the ingredients your potion will be useless, serving to do nothing more than make the drinker slightly intoxicated, however if you are to heavy handed, your potion will put the drinker into a deep sleep from which they may never wake." Snape paused letting his small speech sink in. He tapped his wand on the board. "The instructions are on the board. Ingredients can be found in the storage cupboard in the back of the room. You have the rest of the class. Begin."

†††

Over an hour to brew the Draught of Peace, Chris thought. Wow. He and Wyatt had made it at Magic School during their summer classes, and Professor Cal'drons had only given them forty minutes. Well he'd brewed the Draught of Peace, Wyatt had brewed…something.

Chris read through the instructions on the board quickly, skimming really since he figured he remembered how to make the potion, before gathering the necessary ingredients from the back of the room. He fell into the routine quickly, arranging the ingredients in what Wyatt referred to as his neurotic, OCD fashion that rivaled Piper's.

Chris had always had a knack for potions. Actually, when it came to potions at the Halliwell manor Chris and Piper were the ones usually in charge and Wyatt was forbidden to touch anything. Both Chris and Piper were equally good at brewing potions or cooking in general, and both absolutely hated when someone else messed up the organized mess of a kitchen they functioned in. Chris also simply thoroughly enjoyed brewing potions. It kept his hands busy, as Chris loathed to not be doing anything. He couldn't just sit, he had to be doing something, whether it was drawing, reading, writing, listening to music, or cooking. He just needed to be busy.

Chris worked quietly, ignoring everyone around him, as he focused on his caldron.

Add powdered moonstone

Stir once counterclockwise, then twice clockwise.

Allow the potion to simmer for seven minutes.

"Chris."

Add three drops of syrup of hellebore.

"Chris."

"_What Wyatt?"_ Chris demanded irritated.

"My potion's orange," Wyatt hissed.

Was it enough information to conclude that Wyatt was rather awful at potions when Chris failed to look even slightly surprised that Wyatt had managed to turn a potion, that should be silver, orange?

Chris sighed running a hand distractedly through his hair. He looked in Wyatt's pot. "What did you do, Wy?"

"I don't know, I don't know. Which is why I am asking you, you idiot," Wyatt whispered.

"_Do not call me an idiot or I may be tempted to not help you. Now what __**exactly **__did you do?"_

_I brewed the Draught of Peace._

"_No, you brewed a pot of orange goo."_

…

"_Read the instructions carefully. Did you do everything exactly as it says?"_

_Uh…no._

Chris sighed again. _"Wy, why didn't you? God that sounded weird."_

_Forget my weird nickname. What do I do?_

"_Next time follow the instructions; don't make up your own."_

Needless to say, Chris spent the next half an hour trying to finish his potion and help Wyatt fix his. Between the two of them, they managed to get Wyatt's potion to a blueish-gray color, though Chris was sure it was anything but the Draught of Peace now.

Ten minutes before the bell was due to ring, found Wyatt forlornly stirring his potion and Chris silently contemplating where he'd screwed up on his.

_Chris?_

"_What."_

_Why are you glaring at your caldron?_

Chris transferred his glare from the caldron to Wyatt. _"Because I am trying to figure out __**where **__exactly I __**messed**__ up. Okay, happy now?"_

Wyatt stared at his brother shocked. _You messed up? When, where?_

…

"A light silver vapor should now be rising above your potion," Snape said beginning to check the students' potions. He frowned walking by the thickset Slytherins Malfoy had introduced to Chris at breakfast. Crabbe and Goyle if he cared to remember correctly. Chris could tell at one glance that both their potions were worse than even Wyatt's, and apparently so could the Professor since he scowled at both their caldrons before moving on.

Chris looked around the room inconspicuously eyeing his classmate's potions. Malfoy's looked presentable, but it was issuing black vapor, probably the result of messing up on the stirring. Ron's and another Gryffindor's Chris didn't know were both down on the scale with Wyatt's. Hermione's was perfect and Harry, as far as Chris could tell, had only forgotten the syrup of hellebore; a mistake easily fixed if one knew what he was doing. Christopher turned his attention back to his own potion. His mistake on the other hand…well he didn't even know what his mistake was.

Snape frowned deeply at the cement like substance in the unknown Gryffindor's caldron. Shaking his head slightly he moved on to Chris's.

"Tell me Matthews, what this is exactly?" he asked eyeing the witch's potion.

Chris glanced at his potion and then the Professor. "It…is a caldron full of…the Draught of…something…sir," Chris answered haltingly.

"Ah yes. Tell me Matthews, did you follow the instructions explicitly?" Snape said.

"Ah, obviously not, because if I did it would be the Draught of Peace not the Draught of Something," Chris replied.

Snape frowned faintly but ignored Chris slightly sarcastic tone. "Are you aware, Matthews, of your mistake?"

"No, Professor, I am not." Otherwise I would have fixed it, Chris added silently.

Severus stared at the Slytherin. Christopher stared back not intimidated.

"Read though the instructions again," Snape said at length, "Tell me, which one causes a potion to vaporize?"

Chris scanned the instructions, and searched his brain. Which one causes potions to vaporize? Which ingredient causes potions—

Chris could have smacked himself. He'd forgotten the sorghum bean. Of all the stupid… "I didn't put the sorghum bean in."

"Obviously. Do you know how to fix it?" Snape said.

"Valec nectar and Gnaric beetle." Chris answered.

"Correct. Now fix it," Snape snapped peering into Wyatt's caldron. "What is this?"

Wyatt gulped, slightly unnerved by the dark haired man's stare. "Uh, it's the Draught of Peace," Wyatt said. "Or not," he added at Snape's less than pleased look.

"Did you follow the instructions, Mr. Matthews?" he seethed.

Wyatt nodded his head. "Yes, of course…I mean no, no…sir."

Snape scowled at him. "Undoubtedly," he said continuing on. Wyatt sighed, shooting Chris a 'what the heck' look. Chris shrugged dumping a few crushed beetles into his caldron watching Snape out of the corner of his eye.

Snape moved on peering in Hermione's caldron without comment, which Chris took to mean he could find nothing to criticize. Harry's however, was a different story.

"What is this, Potter?"

Harry swallowed. "The Draught of Peace, sir."

Snape glowered at him. "Tell me Potter, can you read?"

"Yes, sir" Harry answered sounding a little puzzled.

Chris watched the exchange with interest. He could definitely sense some underlying hostility here. Heck, even if he weren't an empath, he was sure he could sense it. The question was why? He wondered fleetingly if he should telepathically answer his own question, but quickly dismissed the idea. The mind was a private place. He'd get the answer the old fashioned way—eavesdropping and asking. However, Chris was quite certain it was a bigger issue than the petty house differences. Hopefully.

"Read step three Potter," Snape said softly.

Harry squinted at the board. "Stir once counterclockwise then twice clockwise and allow your potion to simmer for seven minutes. Then add three drops of syrup of hellebore." Harry paused, his face falling. "I forgot the syrup of hellebore," he said quietly.

"Clearly," Snape sneered, "_Evanesco." _ He waved his wand over Harry's caldron. Chris furrowed his brows in confusion. Snape evidently hated Harry, and for more reasons than him being a Gryffindor. After all Ron's and Wyatt's potions had been far worse and Snape hadn't poofed theirs. "For those of you who have managed to brew an acceptable batch," Snape continued, "Fill a flagon and place it on my desk. Make sure you mark it clearly with your name. If I cannot read it, I will not attempt to decipher. I want a fifteen inch essay on the properties and uses of moonstone to be due Thursday. After you clean up you are dismissed."

Chris filled a flagon carefully corking it and setting it on the professor's desk. Harry cleaned up quickly leaving the room in a rush, his face a mask of suppressed anger. Chris eyed Snape and his brother cautiously, secretly filling several of his own potion vials and slipping them in his pockets before cleaning out his caldron.

"What now?" Wyatt asked Hermione.

"Er, we have lunch now and then I have Ancient Runes," she answered packing up her books.

"You have Ancient Runes, but Matthews, Harry and I have Divination," Ron said.

"Yes, but only because you didn't drop it. Although why I'll never understand," Hermione replied.

"Yo, Chris. You coming?" Wyatt called when he realized Chris hadn't followed. "Come on slow poke, it doesn't need to be perfect."

"I'll catch up or something," Chris said waving his hand in a get lost motion, continuing to feign scrubbing at his caldron. He watched his brother and the others leave, immediately flipping his book to the page he'd marked nearly a week ago. Scanning through the ingredients for the potion he discreetly gathered them from the storage cupboard while Snape lectured Goyle, whose potion had somehow managed to combust and set fire to his robes and papers on the Professor's desk.

Chris grabbed his bag heading to lunch, even though he wasn't that hungry. He walked down the hallways slowly, confident he was going the right direction, but not all that eager to face the crowds surely gathered in the hall.

"Hey you, Matthews."

Chris stopped turning to see Draco Malfoy, who was surprisingly not flanked by his two thickset sidekicks. Chris waited until Draco caught up before resuming his walk to the Great Hall.

"So," Draco began, breaking the silence, "You haven't told me why you're here."

Chris glanced at him. "Because it is the most utilized passage of one's self from the dungeons to the Great Hall," he said tonelessly.

Draco paused staring at the American. "Witty," he said finally, "But I meant why are you at Hogwarts."

"Is _that_ what you meant!" Chris said smacking himself on the forehead and feigning enlightenment. "Well that makes so much more sense than why you wanted to know why I was in a hallway."

A small smile tugged at Draco's lips at Chris's remarks. They continued down another passageway before Draco felt his irritation spike. "Well?" he demanded.

"My mother sent us," Chris said bluntly. "Wanted us to get a 'proper' O.W.L. level education."

"So she shipped you off to England?"

Chris nodded his head shrugging. "Said she didn't like the schools in America."

"Right," Draco said sitting down and helping himself to lunch. "So, you play Quidditch?" he asked taking a bite.

"What?" Chris said caught off guard by the rather sudden subject change.

"Quidditch. Do you play?"

Oh, Chris thought, Quidditch. The Wizard sport with the four balls and flying broomsticks. "Uh…not really," he answered helping himself to an apple.

"Why?"

Chris thanked his lucky stars he was a good liar. Not that he liked to lie, but he knew he could get just about anyone to believe every word he spoke, and he foresaw a lot of lying where Draco was concerned. "My mother is afraid of flying and my dad thinks sports are a waste of time," he said mentally making a note to inform Wyatt about their 'parents' view on quidditch.

"You should tryout then. You have a good build, and you never know maybe you'd be a good player," Draco said.

"Do you play?" said Chris attempting to steer the conversation to Draco and away from himself.

Draco smiled and Chris detected a heavy note of pride in his words. "Yes. I'm the seeker. Have been since my second year."

"Oh, and are you a good player?"

"I wouldn't be the seeker if I wasn't would I?" Draco said, smile vanishing.

Chris smirked undeterred by Malfoy's sudden defensive attitude. "You would be as long as you were better than the other candidates. Just cause you're better than them doesn't mean you're good."

"Well it just so happens that I am good," Draco said.

"No doubt," said Chris taking a bite of his apple.

Draco ate in silence for a few minutes before speaking again. "What does your father do in America? It's not a densely populated area for wizards."

"It isn't," Chris agreed. "My father's an instructor at Magic school."

"Magic school?" Draco said bluntly.

"Yes. It's a really small academy. I mean really, really small. Very few wizards are schooled there. It's in Canada actually, up in the Northwest Territory. My father teaches a couple subjects, and he wanted us to be schooled there, but my mom refused. Beats me why though," Chris lied smoothly.

"Magic school?" Draco repeated.

"Yes, that's what I said."

"Magic school."

"Yes."

"Magic school."

"Dude, did someone break your record?" Chris asked.

"They seriously could not come up with a better name? I mean _Magic_ _school_?" Draco said laughing. Chris rolled his eyes.

"The name absolutely shines in its originality. Kudos to the Americans," Chris deadpanned. Draco had a point though. Really Magic school. Then again it was named by the same people who called their country, comprised of states on America that were united, the United States of America. In Chris's opinion one couldn't get more unoriginal than that. Chris snatched another apple, standing up to leave suddenly tired of the conversation.

"Where are you going?" Draco said surprised.

"Away." Chris said leaving.

"Wait, Matthews, one more thing," Draco called.

Chris pivoted retracing his steps back to the blonde, and raised his eyebrows.

"Why were you talking to those Gryffindores?"

Chris furrowed his brow. "He's my brother. I'm not going to stop talking to him because he's wearing red and gold."

Draco inclined his head accepting that fact. "What about Potter, Granger, and Weasley?"

"They seem like very nice people," Chris said seriously.

"They're Gryffindores. You're a Slytherin. Some people won't like you fraternizing with them," Draco said acidly.

"Are you one of them?"

Draco didn't answer, only narrowing his eyes.

Chris leaned down, placing his hands flat on the table. "Let me make one thing clear, _Draco_. I will speak to, and befriend anyone I damn well please, regardless of this school's houses, student prejudices, or _anyone's_ opinion," he warned quietly.

Draco didn't speak. Chris took his silence as acceptance, spinning on his heel and exiting the Great Hall. He'd known from the beginning Draco had an ulterior motive in striking up conversation with him. Draco wanted to know why he was here and why, since he was Slytherin, he was taking such in interest in three Gryffindores. He was a little to observant for an average student however, Chris thought. Perhaps he knew something, though what, Chris hadn't a clue.

Chris stopped at the doors to the great hall, stepping into the shadows and turning to scan the students. He spotted Wyatt and the three wizards sitting at the Gryffindor table. Ron and Hermione appeared to be arguing about something, both throwing what Chris inferred to be heated remarks at one another. Wyatt looked slightly uncomfortable as he ate, and Harry wore an extremely miffed look.

Directing his gaze back to Draco, Chris bit his lip, reaching out telepathically to read the blonde's mind. Yes, Chris fully believed the mind to be a private place and loathed to invade that boundary for anyone. Not that he could completely control his telepathy. It was like a radio tuned into many stations at once, none of them clear, and he'd just learned to ignore them. A constant murmur of voices in his head, like static. But there was something about Draco that sent Chris's intuition into a frenzy, and thus he _needed_ to know what Draco knew.

Draco's head was surprising. Not because of what he found, but rather what he _couldn't_ find. Draco's mind was protected, blocking Chris from entering his thoughts and memories. Chris closed his eyes concentrating, searching for a chink in the steel armored wall that guarded Draco's mind. It was a strong barrier, but not unbreakable. With a little force Chris could be in. The problem was the more force he used; the higher the chance Draco would sense his foreign presence. Chris sighed. If he ever did force his way into Draco's mind, he would not be doing it in the Great Hall with tons of students as witnesses.

Chris sighed again, digging out his schedule. Divination. Well he had around fifty minutes of lunch left; might as well find the North Tower.

Fifteen minutes later, he stopped staring at a picture he was sure he'd passed before. Normally he had a good sense of direction, but this place was a freakin maze. "What the hell is wrong with this castle?" Chris mumbled turning in circles, and trying to figure out which way was north.

"Are you lost, dear?"

Chris spun around, certain no one had been near him. The corridor was empty. He glanced around wondering who had spoken.

"Are you alright? You're acting mighty strange."

Chris spun around again, this time his eyes landing on the portrait of a middle aged woman and cats. No. Surely not. He blinked.

"Dear?"

"You talk," Chris blurted.

"Of course I do dear. I'm the cat woman, not the mute one. She's about five portraits down to the left," the woman in the painting said.

Chris blinked again leaning in closer. "That is just…wicked," he breathed. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "Actually, ma'am, I am lost. Can you tell me how to get to the North Tower?"

The woman nodded. "I can."

Chris waited a beat. "Would you tell me?"

"I would." She stared at Chris unblinkingly.

Chris stared back, brow furrowed in confusion. "So…"

"So what?" the woman asked innocently.

"How do I get to the North Tower?" Chris said. The woman smiled.

†††

Harry walked down the corridor, still seething with anger. He couldn't even say why he was so angry, but Ron and Hermione's arguing on top of Snape's hostility in potions and Dumbledore's continuing dismissing of his presence just…just. Ughh. It just frustrated him to no end. He'd finally left the Great Hall leaving a dumfounded looking Wyatt and Ron and a mystified Hermione.

He headed to his next class, Divination, deciding to simply wait beneath the silver trapdoor for the last half hour or so of lunch. He climbed the stairs to the North Tower knowing the path by heart, and stopped short at the sight of another figure sitting bent over by the wall. Walking closer Harry realized the person was Chris Matthews, and he seemed to be reading a large tome while writing something.

Harry sat down slowly across from Chris wondering if he should say something even though Chris seemed unaware of his presence. Harry licked his lips in preparation to speak.

"Uh, hi," he said awkwardly. Chris didn't acknowledge his words continuing to write. "Um…what are you doing?" Harry asked.

Chris didn't pause in his writing or look up. "Writing."

Harry nodded. "Writing what?"

"Words."

Harry nodded again. "Words of what?"

"History."

"History," Harry repeated. He craned his neck looking closer at the book in Chris's lap. "You're taking notes from our History of Magic textbook?"

"No, I am taking History notes from my potions book," Chris deadpanned.

"Oh." Harry fell silent for a moment. "How did you…I mean how did you find your way here?"

"I asked for directions. The portraits are quite helpful though some to possess a rather uncanny sense of humor."

Harry nodded falling silent again as Chris continued to scrawl on his paper. Harry shifted uncomfortable in the silence. He cleared his throat slightly in an attempt to say something again but Chris beat him to it.

"It wasn't that bad, you know," Chris said, suddenly without looking up.

Harry blinked confused. What wasn't that bad?

"Your potion," Chris clarified instantly almost as if he had sensed Harry's confusion, "It wasn't bad. Snape shouldn't have vanished it."

Harry shrugged still feeling anger for Snape's latest act of hatefulness towards him. "Yeah, well Snape does a lot of things he shouldn't," he said bitterly.

"Still. Mine was worse than yours, nevertheless he allowed me to correct my mistake, but he did not permit you to correct yours. And some of the others, like my brother's, were worthless, yet he did not vanish theirs," Chris said tonelessly still writing despite their conversation.

Harry shrugged again. "You're Slytherin," he stated bluntly.

Chris stopped writing looking up with raised eyebrows. "What does my house have to do with anything?" he asked with only a small trace of puzzlement.

"Snape's the head of the Slytherin house. He plays favorites. Plus he just hates me."

"That doesn't seem fair," Chris said writing again.

"Why do you care? You're Slytherin," Harry blurted. Why did a _Slytherin _seem so bloody obsessed with fairness?

Chris stopped writing again. He looked up. Harry shifted getting the feeling that Chris was reading him like the book in his lap.

"I seem to have underestimated the prejudices for the houses harbored by the students and staff," Chris said softly. "It seems unwise though for a school in a situation such as this to be so divided."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. A sliver of foreboding slid down his spine at Chris's words. Words almost matching those of the Sorting Hat's warning in its song. But Chris hadn't heard the song.

"You know what I mean. A school with someone like you and Dumbledore in it. Both rather valuable people to the Dark Lord. With Voldemort's return, I'd wager my life that Hogwarts is on his hit list."

The bell rang then. Chris slid his book and papers back into his bag and rose fluidly to his feet. Harry stared at the Slytherin shocked.

"What—wait you know about that?"

Chris glanced at Harry like he was crazy. "Of course I do," he said climbing the ladder to the classroom, "I'm from America, not Never-Never Land."

Harry followed him. "You said his name," he said stunned. As far as he knew he was one of the very few students, heck wizards, that spoke Voldemort's name.

"Who? Dumbledore?" Chris said playing dumb and sitting down.

"No," Harry said lowering his voice so Trelawney wouldn't hear him, "Voldemort," he whispered sliding into the chair across from Chris.

Chris brought his gaze back to Harry. "Fear of the name of a thing heightens fear of the thing itself."

Ron and Wyatt came up the ladder and after giving their respective friend/brother odd looks they sat down at the table next to Chris and Harry.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Harry whispered harshly leaning over the table.

Chris smiled at him. "Shut up Harry, I think class is starting."

"Good Day, my students," Professor Trelawney said in a sing song voice.

Harry opened and closed his mouth surprised at being spoken to like a child by someone his own age. He felt a flare of indignation directed at the smug looking teen across from him. Chris shook his head slightly, eyes twinkling in amusement, and Harry got the distinct impression Chris knew exactly what he was thinking.

"I am delighted to see that you all have returned to Hogwarts safely, as I of course knew you all would," Trelawney simpered gazing at the class.

Harry let his mind wander from the Professors speech about OWLS and dreams to the Rubiks Cube of a Wizard sitting opposite him. Chris's face had adopted a disgusted and slightly horrified expression in response to whatever Trelawney had said. Harry narrowed his eyes studying the American wizard.

Chris was a Slytherin, yet he acted nothing like his housemates. He was from America, but he knew about Voldemort. And he spoke Voldemort's name. Harry knew several wizards who weren't afraid to say Voldemort's name, but Chris had called him both the Dark Lord and Voldemort in a tone that suggested he used them interchangeably. He drew his mind in from its wanderings at Chris's bemused inquiry.

"Yo, Wonder Boy, ya with me?"

"What…oh yeah…what?" Harry said distractedly.

"Dreams," Chris said sagely.

Harry blinked at Chris utterly lost and wondering about the American's sanity.

"The teacher Harry, she's talkin about dreams," Chris drawled shoving Harry's book at him. "Pay attention."

Harry scowled opening his book to the same page as Chris. He was like a male Slytherin version of Hermione.

Professor Trelawney was waving her hands around speaking in a detached voice. "Pair up with those across from you, relate your dreams and interpret what they mean."

Harry frowned. He already knew what his dreams meant. The reoccurring nightmare of Cedric's death and Voldemort's return was rather self explanatory and he didn't need Trelawney, a book, or Chris to try and pick it apart.

Chris drummed his fingers on the table, leaning back in his chair. "You go first," he said.

Harry shook his head, "I don't remember my dreams. You go."

Chris shook his head saying shortly, "I don't dream."

"Everybody dreams."

"I'm not everybody," Chris retorted with an extremely closed expression. "Just make up one then. This book is a load of crap anyway."

"What?" Harry asked. "What do you mean its rubbish?"

Chris dropped his chair back down with a thud pointing at his open book. "Dream interpretation is relative to the individual. The symbols in my dreams won't mean the same thing they mean in your dream, because the way we see things is different and thus our interpretations are different."

"So the way I see something is different from the way you see something, so in our dreams the same thing could have different meanings."

"Absolutely. Like water for instance would mean one thing to me in my dreams and something completely different for you."

Harry nodded. Chris made sense. Well at least more sense than Professor Trelawney ever did. "I thought you said you didn't dream?"

Chris shot him a glare, closing his book and directing his attention to Ron and Wyatt who were talking animatedly about their dreams.

"…and then this giant shoe just came out of nowhere and squished the spider. Then it just disappeared and all these little spiders showed up and wanted me to tap dance…"

Chris looked back at Harry, eyebrows raised, and shook his head faintly. "Tu amigo es loco," he muttered, "Your friend is crazy."

"…I was in Africa riding this horse as fast as I could and there was this giraffe beside me and I was being chased by this lion…"

Harry nodded, "So is yours."

Wyatt broke off about his African dream, "What do you think Chris?" he asked, "You're good with this dream stuff. I was riding this horse as fast as humanly possible. There was a giraffe beside me and a lion in hot pursuit. I mean what the hell?"

Chris smirked. "It means you should get your drunk ass of the carousel."

Ron burst out laughing and Harry chuckled as Wyatt got an extremely thoughtful expression. "You know, I may have actually been drunk when I dreamed that. Yes, yes I definitely was. It was that time Jack had that party and you were too much of a scaredy cat to drink anything," he said.

"No, Wy. Not scaredy cat—smarty cat. Remember you were the one with the God awful hangover the next day and got grounded for two months. Not me. Plus I got to remember how hilariously stupid you and everyone else acted after you were wasted," Chris remarked.

Wyatt winced. "Yeah the hangover was bad. God knows it convinced me not to drink again anytime soon. Mom's fit helped a bit too. She was ticked."

Chris hummed his agreement as Trelawney spoke again. "I want each of you to keep a dream diary for the next month. Write them down and interpret their meaning. Enjoy the rest of your day. It'll be sunny," she said as the bell rang.

Harry groaned at the homework. Already the fifth year was piling on the load. He had the potions essay on the moonstone, the history essay on the Great Wars, a dream diary for the next month, and he was willing to bet the Umbridge lady wasn't going to go easy on them.

†††

Chris followed behind Harry, Ron, and Wyatt into the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. Defense Against the Dark Arts. Wow, what a mouthful. Chris shook his head dispelling the random thoughts and focused on the room instead.

The room was clean, brightly lit, organized an overly non-threatening. Not what he would expect in a DADA room. Professor Umbridge sat smiling in all her pink glory behind her desk. She was wearing simple pale pink robes and had a large black bow on her head reminding Chris forcibly of some sort of large beetle on a gigantic cane toad.

Umbridge smiled sweetly, turning Chris's stomach, as the students filed quietly into the room. Chris swept the woman empathically, trying to get a feel for her character. A layer of forced and overly niceness obscured the more devious and sadistic emotions below. She made Chris sick, unnerved him, gave him a sort of blind feeling of uncertainty he was not accustom to with his array of psychic powers. Chris narrowed his eyes, deciding then and there that this deceitful ministry bitch would be getting no respect from him as a person or his professor.

The professor stood up after all the students were seated, and tapped her wand on the board causing her name and the course name to appear. "Good Afternoon class!" she said in an annoyingly chipper voice. A few students mumbled a reply, though most, including Chris, said nothing. "Well, that will not due," Umbridge said. "When I say Good Afternoon I expect all of you to reply with 'Good Afternoon Professor Umbridge'. Again, Good Afternoon class!"

The answer rung through the room. "Good Afternoon Professor Umbridge."

Ninguna manera en infierno, Chris thought keeping his mouth firmly shut.

"Better!" Umbridge said delightedly. Chris scowled. Her voice was nauseating, loud, and cutting. It sliced though his skull creating a dull throb, and Chris scowled deeper, slouching in his chair.

Professor Umbridge carried on speaking about how the ministry disapproved of their fractured and sparse instruction in defense of dark arts, and Hogwarts former teachers, particularly Professor Lupin, who Chris recalled, now worked for the Order. Each word she said increased the developing pain behind Chris's eyes.

Chris dropped his head down on his arms, whishing for all the world classes could just be over or at least far away from Umbridge. He wanted to find some Tylenol and then sleep for a solid eight hours. He sighed. The Tylenol would be no problem; sleep however, would be.

"_Dear? _I would very much appreciate it if you would pick your head up."

Chris broke out of his musings quickly, realizing Umbridge was speaking to him. He sat up fully looking at the teacher.

"Thank you, dear," Professor Umbridge said sweetly. "Now why don't you tell me what the importance is of keeping your head up and paying attention."

Chris bit his lip hesitating. He could see a lot of advantages to keeping his head down but none for keeping it up.

"Well?" she said.

Chris winced. "I don't know."

Umbridge looked taken aback. "Pardon?"

"I see a lot of advantages to keeping my head down but none for keeping it up," he said dully.

A look of anger flashed across Umbridge's face granting Chris a small amount of satisfaction. The rest of the class was staring at him now, though, and Chris shifted, uncomfortable at being the center of attention. Umbridge walked slowly back to stand in front of Chris.

"What," she asked softly, "is your name and house?"

"Chris Matthews. I'm Slytherin."

"You've lost your house twenty-five points, and I expect you to show your elders like me more respect. If you don't you'll be facing more than loss of house points. Do I make myself clear?" Umbridge said threateningly.

"Crystal," Chris sneered.

Umbridge narrowed her eyes at his reply. She turned around sharply, well as sharply as her squat body would allow, tapping her wand on the board again. "Wands away, please. I want all of you to copy down the course objectives and then read chapter one of your books on the ministry's view of spells and regulations."

Chris sighed pulling out his quill and parchment. He squinted at the board, cursing the fact that the woman wand-wrote in cursive, and attempted to decipher the swirly lines.

_Are you okay?_

Chris started when Wyatt mind-spoke to him and glanced at his brother.

"_Yeah I'm fine. Just tired." _He paused wondering if he should ask Wy what he thought of the Ministry woman. _"Wyatt…what do you think of her?"_

_Who?_

"_Umbridge."_

Wyatt looked at Chris thoughtfully, raising his quill to chew on the end like he did with his pencils before realizing it was a feather. _I don't trust her, _he said finally. _She gives me the creeps. Why?_

Chris mind-laughed hollowly, shaking his head, and focusing once more on decoding the board. When he finished he pulled out his book to read the first chapter. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something odd. Hermione was sitting ramrod straight with her hand in the air. Umbridge was at her desk determinedly ignoring Hermione.

Mentally shrugging Chris started reading. He was barely a paragraph in before Wyatt interrupted him. _There's nothing about using defensive spells, _he said.

Chris sighed, reading over the objectives again. Wyatt was right. Well, that was dumb. Then again Chris knew the ministry was interfering at Hogwarts, because they feared Dumbledore, and would make a dumb decision like that.

"_I see that."_

_That doesn't make any sense._

It was also most likely what Hermione had noticed and wanted to ask Umbridge about. Deciding that watching Hermione and Umbridge's silent battle of wills would be more interesting than the words on the page, Chris propped his head on the heel of his hand and stared at the two females.

When over three quarters the class, including Chris, Wyatt, Ron, and Harry, were all staring at Hermione rather than their books, Umbridge finally acknowledged her.

"Yes dear?"

Hermione dropped her hand with a sour face. "There's nothing in the objectives about _using_ defensive spells," she stated bluntly.

Umbridge folded her plump hands delicately. "What is your name child?"

"Hermione Granger, ma'am."

"Miss. Granger, the Ministry feels that there is no need for you to actively _use_ or perform these spells anywhere besides the carefully controlled environment of your O.W.L. testing. As long as you study the theory hard and thoroughly enough I am certain none of you will have any problems."

"Wait," Chris broke in surprised, "Are you saying the first time we cast these spells will be during the most important test of the year?"

"Mr. Matthews you did not raise your hand. Students are to raise their hands and wait to be recognized by the teacher before speaking. And as I said, as long as you study the theory hard and thoroughly enough none of you should have any problems at all," Umbridge said. "Please continue with your reading."

Hermione pinched her face, looking distressed. "So you—"

"Your hand is not up Miss. Granger," the Professor said sharply.

Hermione thrust her hand in the air, and Umbridge sighed audibly before saying: "Yes Miss. Granger?"

"So you aren't going to actually teach us how to defend ourselves against dark magic?"

Umbridge sighed again. "Miss Granger, as I have previously stated twice you need only to learn the theory. There is no reason for any of you to actually use the spells," she said evenly. "Who would want to harm children such as yourselves?"

Hermione fell silent, knowing an answer but unwilling to speak it. Chris saw Harry move to his left and felt a shift in the atmosphere of the room, Harry's level of anger rising.

"Oh I don't know, let's think, maybe _Voldemort_?" Harry said scathingly.

The effect was instantaneous. Ron gasped, Hermione flinched, several people stifled small screams, but Umbridge gave no reaction, silently staring at Harry.

Chris looked to Wyatt who was regarding Harry closely. Chris could feel anger, frustration, and desperation pouring off of the wizard savior. He carefully sucked in a breath of air, keeping Harry's emotions separate from his own. He wondered briefly if maybe he should intercede but intuition prompted him to let it play out.

"The Dark Lord?" Umbridge said softly.

"Yes, Voldemort, the dark wizard mass murder may just attack us children," Harry retorted.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor house, Mr. Potter. And remain silent unless you wish to lose more." Umbridge rose from her seat pacing in front of the desks. "Now, I know that some of you are under the impression that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned from the dead—"

"He was not dead, but yeah he's back," Harry said bitterly.

Chris winced as an almost palpable whip of anger lashed from the Ministry woman. Shut up Harry, he thought, if you know what's good for you, you'll shut up.

"Mr. Potter I asked you to remain silent. As I was saying, this is a _lie_."

"It's not a lie!"

"MR. POTTER. Your hand is not up!" Umbridge snapped.

Harry immediately thrust his hand in the air.

"I repeat. That is a lie. The Dark Lord is not back. The Ministry guarantees that you are in no danger…"

Chris gasped softly as an image flashed through his psyche.

A dark haired man. A flare of green. An arch. Billowing drapes. Then nothing.

Lasting no more than three seconds, Chris struggled to recall the details committing them to memory. No danger my ass, he thought.

"So your saying Cedric Diggory just dropped dead?" Harry asked angrily. Chris sensed guilt and sadness intermeshed with Harry's anger. Chris frowned another image flashing: A green flare. Black cloth. A teenage boy. Cedric Diggory. The boy Voldemort had murdered last year.

"What happened to Cedric Diggory was a tragic accident—" Umbridge said.

"It WAS NOT an _accident_," Harry shouted jumping to his feet.

"Mr. Potter, I will not have you spouting lies!"

"It is not a lie. Voldemort is back. He killed Cedric. And if some—" Harry yelled shaking in anger.

"Shut up!" Umbridge screeched. Everyone in the room fell silent in shock. Umbridge walked back to her desk. "Come here Mr. Potter."

Harry glared at her a moment before stalking to the front of the room. Umbridge scrawled something on a horrid pink piece of paper, sealing it closed with her wand before holding it out Harry. "You have detention with me for the rest of the week. Take this to Professor McGonagall."

Harry snatched it stalking from the room.

Chris watched Harry leave his emotions still thrumming through the room. Detention, Chris mused, what a great way to get to know someone. On that thought train, Chris made a split second decision to act, for once, impulsively. Clapping loudly he whistled and gave a short laugh. "Wow," he said, "That was like really unintelligent. I thought the Ministry was supposed to be smart."

Umbridge stared at him doing a good impression of a fish out of water. Wyatt looked like he thought Chris had lost his mind.

"_Be quiet and just go with it."_

"Mr. Matthews?" Umbridge finally managed warningly.

"Yes?" Chris asked innocently leaning back in his chair. "You know living in America, I had thought the government there was a bunch of stupid jerks…but you ministry folks give a whole new meaning to the words egotistical liars."

Umbridge glared at him, and Chris knew he'd crossed the line. "Come here, Mr. Matthews," she said tightly.

Chris smirked, dropping his chair to all four legs and sauntering up to the Professors desk. He raised his eye brows questioningly even though he knew what she was doing.

"You will have detention all week as well—"

"Ohhh, _scary_."

"—since you obviously need to learn proper classroom behavior and respect for your elders. Take this to your Head of House," Umbridge finished as if Chris hadn't spoken.

Chris leaned forward conspiratorially. "Respect is earned," he said quietly. "And you," he continued plucking the scroll identically to Harry's from Umbridge's fingers, "have not earned mine."

Chris spun on his heel, deftly grabbing his bag and book as he passed his seat. He shrugged to a still baffled Wyatt and left the room.

Well that went splendidly. He'd gotten his detention, a detention he was so making sure did _not_ find its way on his permanent school behavior record, and would spend the next five evenings in hell with his charge and the Ministry demon. God he wished he could just vanquish her.

Shaking his head Chris focused on his next problem.

He had absolutely no idea where Snape's office was.

"Ah mi dios," he groaned.

**There's the end of this one…**

**I'll try to update as soon as possible.**

**Oh…** **Ninguna manera en infierno ~ No way in hell**

**Ah mi dios ~ Oh my God**

**Anyhoo please, please review…Thanks for reading.**


	14. Doors and Chess

**Disclaimer: Don't make me say it again, Chuck…or I will have to launch random objects in your direction…Good boy. Now get me coffee.**

**Thank you sooooooooooooo much for your reviews. They make my day…no seriously they do.**

**AN1: About Chris's random Spanish outbursts—there is a reason. And it will be revealed. When you ask? ….uh I'm not sure yet, I just know it will be. **

**AN2: Chris is not 13 here, he's 14 going on fifteen. I'm trying to sort all the age thingys out but with the blended timelines it's a little difficult, but I'm working on it. I know I stated all their ages in an author note earlier, but I er may have gotten it wrong, I'll fix it…besides all you really need to know is: Wyatt is the oldest, Ron, Hermione, and Harry are in the middle, and Chris is the youngest.**

**AN3: Response to reviewer PB: You stated that my prologue was, well off, because I have the Wiccan world Chris and Wyatt belong to beginning in 1498ish. Now, I know that is what it said, but I don't want you to take me for an idiot. While I may not be completely familiar with the Wiccan world background, I know it's been around for a looonnnggg time. I have an, ahhh, thing planned that Chris will be discovering and such so if you will stick around and read up until that point, (I'm not sure when that will be) I'd be most grateful to hear your thoughts. If not…then thanks for the Good luck wish. **

**Enjoy! And please R&R **

Chris walked aimlessly down the corridor. He'd deduced that the Head of Slytherin's office was probably in the dungeons which he could find _**if**_ he could locate the history of magic class room. And he could find the history room _**if**_ he could find the Great Hall, which he could find _**if**_ he was in the dungeons. But were he _**in**_ the dungeons he wouldn't have the problem at all.

Chris stopped by a window, gazing out over the grounds. Rain pattered down almost silently and a light fog covered the grounds obscuring most from Chris's view. A strong wind blew, howling around the castle. Chris shivered involuntarily stepping away from the glass.

He continued his wandering, figuring he would find something he recognized or run into someone he could ask for directions besides a painting that talked in circles. He rounded the corner sharply walking down yet another hallway. A door flew open suddenly to his right just as he walked by soundly smacking Chris in the face and sending him to the floor. Chris yelped as the door sent a spike of pain through his already aching head.

"Oh my god!" someone gasped overhead.

"You can call me Chris," Chris replied instinctively, voice muffled by his hands. He opened his eyes to see who the 'someone' was.

"Harry," he said unsurprised. He winced accepting Harry's help up with one hand keeping the other clamped over his injured nose. "You know a simple 'I don't like you' would have sufficed."

"It…I…the door…I would…I didn't…I'm sorry…I didn't know you were there," Harry managed finally. "I'm so sorry. Are you alright? I'm sorry."

Chris removed his hand from his face frowning slightly at the crimson liquid on his fingers.

"Bloody hell, you're bleeding," Harry said quickly.

Chris rolled his eyes, refraining from saying that yes, bleeding was what one usually did after being hit with a hunk of wood.

"I'll take you to the infirmary," said Harry moving to grab Chris's arm.

Chris shook his head immediately regretting the action as it caused the pounding in his head to intensify. Great, he thought, now I have a migraine. "No, it's just blood. My nose isn't even broken." Amazingly, he added silently.

Harry looked uncertain. "Chris I really think you should go—"

"No. I'm fine," Chris said offering Harry a small smile. "Really I've been punched in the face harder than this." Granted it was usually a demon who punched him, and Wyatt usually healed him right after, but who cared about little details.

"If you're sure you're okay…" Harry said doubtfully watching Chris unsuccessfully try to wipe the blood off his face.

"Peachy," Chris replied.

"What—where were you going?" Harry asked suddenly realizing class wasn't over yet.

Chris glanced around. "Uh…I have no idea. I know where I _need_ to go, but I don't know how to _get_ there. Well short of dropping through the floor…which I'm not all that keen on doing."

"Oh…Where's that?"

"Snape," Chris said holding up the pink scroll.

"You got detention?" Harry said disbelievingly.

Chris nodded slowly, "Apparently I am a arrogant disrespectful pighead."

Harry laughed. "She said that?"

"No, not in words, but I could tell. It's all between the lines. Those Ministry folk are word-warpers."

"Word-warpers?" Harry asked lost.

"Yep. She said I needed to learn 'proper classroom conduct' and 'respect for my elders'. Translation: I am an arrogant disrespectful pighead. They all go through extensive training."

"Right…_okay _then, Snape's office is—" Harry broke off as Chris walked by him, continuing in the direction he'd been going.

"Uh…Chris?" he called. Chris stopped looking back to the wizard. Harry silently pointed in the other direction.

"You're kidding?" Chris asked scowling. He'd always fancied himself a first class navigator, but this castle was seriously kicking his butt.

Harry mutely shook his head. Chris's scowl, if possible deepened, and he stalked back towards Harry. Another gust blew causing the wind to moan again.

"Oh for the love of creation, shut up. You've won again. There's no need to gloat," Chris snapped seemingly at the wall of the castle.

Harry stared at Chris. "I think the door hit you harder than we thought. Maybe we should—"

"No."

"Chris—"

"Just show me to Snape's office please."

Harry shrugged leading the way down the corridor, the stairs, and then to the dungeons. He came to a halt outside a nondescript wooden door turning back to Chris who had followed him silently.

"Well this is Snape's office."

Chris arched an eyebrow. "Really? You sure this isn't just a pit stop?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "No. I'll just leave now. I take it you know your way to the Great Hall from here?"

Chris nodded his head, waving his hand dismissively. "Yes."

Harry nodded as well taking a few steps away. "Right, err…I'll see you around, Matthews."

Chris gave a slight half wave in Harry's direction and opened the door to Snape's office.

He slid the door open quietly, mindful to keep it a good distance away from his face, instinctively moving silently into the dark room. His eyes traveled over the room habitually picking out the details and searching for any signs of danger.

The walls were covered floor to ceiling with cabinets and bookcases displaying leather bound tomes, jars of undistinguishable substances, and a number of other various objects. A bulky desk was set across from a large table cluttered in an organized fashion with several caldrons, papers, and books. There was a closed door tucked into a heavily shadowed corner of the room and no windows.

Chris stepped farther into the room allowing the door to swing close behind him. The professor wasn't in the office. Chris walked past the table tossing only a fleeting look at the books and stopped at the desk. Glancing around the room Chris confirmed he was alone before leaning down to flip through the papers.

True, Severus Snape was a 'loyal' member of the Order. True, Severus Snape held Dumbledore's unwavering trust. True, Chris held Dumbledore in high regard. True, the old wizard held Chris's trust. Equally true though, Snape did not.

Neither he nor Wyatt had met Snape as anything more than students. Dumbledore had felt it prudent that the lowest number of individuals possible knew Wyatt and Chris's true identities or purpose at Hogwarts. So perhaps the ill feelings Chris got from Snape were purely because he was just a student, and thus Snape and he harbored inherent distaste for one another.

Phoebe didn't like Snape either though, hadn't since she and the sisters were first introduced to the Order and people they would be working with for the next year or so. The fact that Phoebe too, was skeptical of Snape was enough to make Chris want to learn more about the former Death Eater.

It wasn't that Chris wholly believed Snape to still be a servant of Voldemort. In fact he was almost positive that Snape wasn't. But he didn't _know_; he couldn't read Snape, and thus that 'almost' was enough to make Chris wary of the dark haired professor.

The first pile of parchment was the grade slips for the Draught of Peace potions he and the other students had done that morning. The next contained a mixture of documents. Potion instructions, letters of no value, lesson plans, notes on unimportant studies, and a half written report to Dumbledore. Chris paused eyes skimming quickly over the words on the paper.

Voldemort was seeking an alliance with an unknown party in the western hemisphere. He had deployed a group of Death Eaters to the Americas with instructions to locate a core of Croatoan. The mission was ultimately unsuccessful. The Death Eaters had located a core, but were unable to harness any power. Six muggle casualties are connected to this mission. That would be the case Darrel had him and Wyatt check out. He'd told Dumbledore about it once he'd made the connection himself. Detected movement for unknown reasons in England. Suspected nefarious actions with Ministry personnel for unknown reasons. Blah, blah, blah…for unknown reasons. Wow, did these people know anything?

Chris blew his bangs out of face once again thumbing through the stack of paper. The report hadn't told him anything he didn't already know, not that he expected Snape to tell Dumbledore in a report 'oh by the way I'm actually a triple agent and loyal to the Dark Lord' or something of equal proportions.

Finished with the papers, Chris pulled out the top drawer beginning to search the desk itself. After three drawers of nothing Chris found a small wooden box at the bottom of the last drawer. He opened it up shifting through the odds and ends objects in the box. Several folded papers, a simple silver ring band, a small stack of moving photos. Chris stopped, one photo having caught his eye. In it was a young Snape, possibly in his mid-teens, smiling in a strained manner and a laughing young teen girl. She looked to be around the same age as the Snape in the photo with red hair and striking green eyes. What had caught Chris's attention though was not the beautiful girl or young looking professor, it was the fact that the picture wasn't moving. It was a muggle photo. Interesting. He stared closer at the girl. She looked familiar, Chris was certain he'd seen her somewhere. Chris tapped the picture thoughtfully before replacing it and the box back where he'd found it.

A presence drifted through his mind, hovering on the edge of his consciousness. Snape. Chris slid the drawer closed quickly, checking to make sure everything was as he'd found it, and moved over to the bookcases just as Snape strode through the door in the corner of the room. Snape slowed to a stop at the sight of a student in his office. He masked his surprise well, but Chris still felt it with his empathy. Once again it was all he could read however, nothing deeper.

"Explain yourself," Snape said curtly.

Silently Chris held up the garishly pink scroll and extended it to Snape. Snape took it just as silently, breaking the seal and reading the contents.

"It would seem you made quite a remarkable impression. On your first day too. You may have broken the record," Snape said inexpressively.

"I'm honored," Chris replied sardonically.

"Don't be. It's nothing to be proud of. I suppose you would like me to see if I can revoke some of the detentions?"

Chris cocked his head to the side. "Not really, sir." When Snape raised an eyebrow Chris explained further: "I wouldn't dream of asking someone else to resolve the consequences of any of my actions."

"A boy who takes responsibility for his mistakes. How _noble_," Snape said practically hissing the last word.

Chris smirked at him. "I never said it was a mistake, sir."

Snape stared at Chris for a moment. "Consider me informed," he said, "What happened to your nose?"

Chris blinked, momentarily lost. "Oh," he said, "a door hit me."

"A door hit you?" Snape repeated.

Chris mentally shook his head. Wasn't that what he'd just said? "Yes sir," he replied aloud.

Snape stood crossing the floor to one of the many cabinets. He removed a small potion vial and handed it to Chris. "Drink it," he instructed when Chris merely stared at it.

"What is it?" Chris asked suspiciously. Accepting unknown potions from a suspected Death Eater was one of the top things on his Don't Do List.

Snape's lip curled in distain. "It's a simple healing draught. As it's clearly labeled."

A healing draught; a Wyatt in a bottle. Chris looked back to the vial. Huh, it was labeled. Didn't mean anything though. You could label anything whatever you wanted and it wouldn't change what it was.

On one hand he could just drink it, after all it was probably a healing draught. Or it could be poison. Wow, Chris thought, paranoid much?

Snape was still staring at him so Chris uncorked the vial and upended it swallowing the contents quickly and nearly gagging at the rancid taste. The thought that it could be poison ran through his mind again. Shouldn't healing potions taste good? Well, if it was poison he'd be dead soon and would no longer care so it didn't really matter. He hissed slightly as a burning sensation grew around his nose and head becoming nearly unbearable before fading. Chris blinked. He felt…great. Even his headache was gone.

Snape slipped the vial from Chris's hands. "Leave now," he said waving a dismissive hand.

Chris exited the room letting out a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He figured that DADA was over by now and there would be no point in returning. He dug out his schedule having no idea where he should be.

Oh joy, he thought looking over it, free time. Today he had from now until dinner to himself. Tomorrow he'd have a study period. Then after dinner he was free again unless he joined some group or had detention. Of course he did have the latter for the rest of the week so from around five o'clock to whenever his time was now Umbridge's. Yippee.

He recalled vaguely McGonagall saying something about students being allowed to spend free time in the common rooms, the great hall, the study hall, and the grounds.

Chris opted for his common room which he assumed would also be in the dungeons. Having no idea which way to go he spun around in a circle and walked off in that direction.

He navigated through the labyrinth of underground corridors for ten minutes before stumbling upon a group of Slytherin girls who were more than happy to show him the way to the common room.

"Yeah, thanks for uh, well directions," Chris said hastily all but running up the stairs to the boy's dormitory escaping the clutches of the girls, particularly one Pansy Parkinson. Chris shuddered, closed the door, and leaned against it. He scanned the room, immediately spotting his trunk at the foot of one of the beds. He crossed over to the trunk pulled out his familiar clothes and quickly ditched the stupid wizard robes. Who the heck decided wizards should wear these freakin' dresses anyway?

He took off the black slacks and white dress shirt, slipping into the _way_ more comfortable cargo pants and long-sleeved shirt. He pulled a plain hoodie over his head, wrenched on his usual sneakers, and, as an afterthought, tugged on his favorite black beanie hat. He hoped the school didn't have any rules against hats in the building like his school back home. He shrugged then deciding he didn't care.

"_Wyatt?"_

There was a short pause: _Here! What ya needin' bro?_

"_Nothing. Just wondered where you were?"_

_Um, I'm in the Gryffindor common room now. Ron and Hermione showed me the dorms and the way up. Its seven floors man! And we have portrait of a fat lady to guard our porthole. Really._ Chris could picture his brother shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"_Huh…well ours is just a stone wall,"_ Chris mind-said. _"So what are you doing now?"_

_Uhhhh….Ron's teaching me to play wizards chess. Needless to say I am not faring well._

"_Well strategy and thinking were never your strong points."_

_Yeah, you're telling me. We've established this before haven't we? You—brains. Me—brawn._

"_Right. Anyway I'm gonna pay a visit to Teresa so if you sense me just fade that's why, Kay?"_

_Sure. Why are you going though?_

"_Just a visit."_ Chris said offhandedly.

_Kay. Have fun. Tell her I said Hola. By the way…any tips for this chess thing?_

"_Move the pieces."_

_Thanks bro…wait what does that mea—?_

Chris broke the connection off and sat on the bed, pulling the curtains closed. He folded his legs Indian style, straight back, hands resting lightly on his knees. He breathed deeply, clearing his mind, letting his consciousness fly free.

He had never tried to mental project this far before, but he'd been practicing a lot lately trying to attain the same amount of control over his mental powers he had over his telekinesis, and Wyatt had over all his powers.

Chris let his breath out slowly, feeling the familiar sense of weightlessness. He reappeared in the heavens, several of the golden cloaked Elders looking up at his arrival.

"Christopher. Blessed be," one intoned, inclining her head, "Teresa is in the Archives."

"Thank You, Dawn." Chris said inclining his head in response.  
He headed down the halls barely stopping anymore to admire what would have most visitors gawking. Soaring white columns, intricate statues rescued from various Earthly eras, artwork, grand doors leading to unimaginable spaces. All of this held no wonder to Chris though as he had seen it many, many times before—and if there was one thing he knew for absolute certain about Up There/Here it was that it _**never**__ ever _changed.

He entered the Hall of the Archives feeling immensely at home among the thousands upon thousands of scrolls, books, and documents—most of which he was prohibited to look at, but still the feeling was there.

Chris spotted Teresa at one of the multiple tables and heaved a mental sigh of relief. The Hall was very large, containing aisle upon aisle of bookshelves and he was not in the mood to play a game of Find the Elder.

"Blessed be Teresa," Chris greeted her from behind.

Teresa spun around, one hand flying to her throat. "Cristóbal! Tenga cuántas veces yo dije no hacer eso?" Giving him no time to answer Teresa wrapped her arms around Chris already spouting off, "Ha sido un rato. Cómo estás?"

Chris smiled. "Bueno, y tu?"

"Muy bien," Teresa replied. "What brings you here today, Cristóbal?" she asked, switching to Chris's native tongue instead of her own. Teresa was a Spaniard. Born and raised in Spain she had moved to Peru when she was twenty-eight, where she had died some years later and thus became an Elder. Teresa's strength was in her passive powers and she was a bit more radical than most Elders which was the reason she had been chosen to tutor Chris in controlling his Elder inherited powers. The other Elders figured Chris was less likely to ignore or randomly spell an Elder he got along with better. Chris had spent many of his summers and free time up here, which is why he had picked up on many of Teresa's Spanish phrases and now used them instinctively as a Brit may say 'blimey' or an American says 'OMG'.

"Well…a lot actually," Chris said. "Wyatt says 'Hola'"

"Ahh…the only Spanish word he knows," Teresa said shaking her head. "But surely you didn't come just to say your brother said 'Hola'."

"No. The dreams are coming back," he said bluntly.

Teresa looked up, only a slight trace of alarm visible. "Which ones?"

Chris sighed heavily, sinking into the seat across from the Elder. "Both," he replied tiredly.

"Both?" Teresa repeated. She frowned, "Does the one have to do with the fact that we are approaching the date of your birth and the anniversary of the…event?"

"Probably. I mean it makes sense. But what about the others?"

Teresa shook her head. "I haven't been able to find anything substantial anywhere. As I said before though, you are a dreamwalker. We can't be absolutely certain the dreams are even yours at all or have anything to do with you."

"I told you. I'm in them. Wyatt's in them. Mom, Dad, the aunts…Unless there is an identical family out there somewhere the dreams are mine," Chris said.

"I know, Cristóbal. So the amulet is losing effect?"

"Yep, just like all the others. The spell, the rune, the herbs, the hex bag…the all work for a bit and then they don't. Almost as if they repress the nightmares but then the dreams fight through it and are back."

Teresa sighed. "I'm running out of options. If I could talk to someone else—"

"No. No…I don't want anyone else to know, okay?" Chris said.

"Why?"

"I just don't. I don't know why. But I don't, Teresa."

"Of course Cristóbal, but it may help if you talked to your family or someone older than I," Teresa said smiling wanly.

"Maybe," Chris said skeptically.

"I'm certain…you could talk to Wyatt," she suggested.

Chris bit back the instant 'no' he had been about to say. If there was one person in the entire world he would never ever speak to about his dreams it was Wyatt. Teresa wouldn't understand though, because he hadn't even told her everything about the dreams. He'd told her who was in them and that the Source of All Evil was destroying the world and killing his family. He never mentioned the Source was his brother.

"You know about the Wizarding World I take it?" Chris asked changing the subject.

Teresa nodded, "Yes, all Elders are familiar with it even though we are not actively involved with its subjects."

"And are you aware of my mother and aunts working with the Wizards—"

"And you and Wyatt being undercover at Hogwarts?" she interrupted. "Yes, I was told about that."

"Good," Chris said, "Now I don't need to explain anything. I want you to tell me everything you know about it and Voldemort."

Teresa paused staring at her young friend. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

Chris cocked an eyebrow. "I want you to tell me about the worlds and the powers within them. Why we don't know about each other? Why we both exist? You know informational stuff."

Teresa sighed. "I can't. It is prohibited to speak of such matters with a mortal. And by mortal I mean someone who is not an Elder."

"Oh…and why is that?" Chris asked.

Teresa narrowed her eyes. "Because."

"You're one of the most powerful beings of good and the best excuse you can come up with is 'because',"

Teresa huffed but didn't answer.

"Well, then you're a lot of help."

Teresa sighed, "I can't tell you myself Cristóbal, but I can tell you that you may be able to piece together everything if you look in the right places. Try the library at Hogwarts or another Wizarding library. There aren't as many restrictions for them as there are for us."

Chris nodded. "Thank you," he said striding back to the doors, "It's such a shame you couldn't help more." He winked at the Elder as he exited and heard her mumble something in Spanish.

He shook his head and allowed his projection to fade, returning his consciousness to his body at Hogwarts. He sighed heavily and slouched deeply. He'd underestimated how tiring it would be to mental project that far. At least he hadn't passed out or anything. He stretched gingerly, scrubbing at his face.

Teresa had said to try the library. Wonder where that is, Chris thought sullenly. Well he'd never find out sitting here on his bed. Resolutely, Chris left the Slytherin dorms and made his way determinedly to the library.

†††

Harry watched, careful to retain his laughter, as Wyatt's chessmen were once again slaughtered by Ron's.

"Oh…NO WAY! I totally should have seen that coming," Wyatt said loudly as more of his pieces were, uh, dispatched rather violently.

"That's Wizards Chess, mate," Ron said. "So you've really never played this before have you?"

"Nope," Wyatt answered moving a pawn right into a trap set by Ron. Ron moved his knight forward capturing Wyatt's pawn.

"You never played Wizard's chess?" Harry asked. "I thought your family was Pure blood."

Wyatt looked at him. "I never said that. Why do you think we are?"

Harry bit his lip. Wyatt was right. No one had said anything about the Matthews family. He'd only assumed they were Pure bloods because Chris was a Slytherin. "Well," he said truthfully, "Because your brother is in Slytherin and most Slytherins are Pure bloods."

"Really? I thought the hat just picked your houses randomly," Wyatt said curiously making another brainless chess move.

"You know what, mate," Ron said taking another pawn, "This is almost pitiful."

"Only almost?" Wyatt asked with a good natured smile as Ron took one of his bishops. He turned his attention back to Harry still waiting for a response.

"The Sorting hat places you into the house that stands for your most prominent traits," Harry said remembering how Hermione had explained it to him.

"Oh…and they are?"

"Well," Harry began awkwardly. Usually it was Hermione giving the lectures. "Hufflepuff is loyalty and er, patience. Ravenclaw is wit and intelligence. Gryffindor is courage and chivalry."

Wyatt nodded. "Charming. Sounds like me too…charging in bravely to rescue the damsel in distress," he said airily.

Ron snorted as he picked off Wyatt's queen, no doubt picturing Wyatt in gleaming armor waving Excalibur over his head like King Arthur and rushing in to save the innocent women of Camelot.

"Awww…" Wyatt moaned, "I liked that one. It could move just about anywhere."

"Too bad," Ron said taking yet another pawn.

"What about Slytherin?" Wyatt asked. "You said Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor but you skipped Slytherin."

Harry hesitated. He skipped it on purpose since the only things he could think of were lying, scheming, Pure blooded scumbags. He really didn't want to say those things to Wyatt in relation to his twin brother. It seemed slightly insulting. Actually, he didn't want to say those things about Chris at all. Chris hadn't seemed like the typical Slytherin. "Well…," he said.

"How about scheming, cowardly, scumbags?" Ron suggested cheerfully, probably forgetting Wyatt's brother was in the house.

Wyatt raised his eyebrows. "I don't think any of those really apply to Chris," he said slowly.

Ron opened his mouth and—

"Hermione!" Harry said brightly beckoning her over and saving Ron from having to respond. "Can you explain the houses to Wyatt. Like the characteristics and stuff you bored us to death with first year?"

"Err…yeah sure. Well," Hermione replied launching into lecture mode. "Gryffindor values courage, bravery, loyalty, nerve and chivalry. Hufflepuff values hard work, tolerance, loyalty, and fair play. Ravenclaw values intelligence, creativity, learning, and wit. AndSlytherin values ambition, cunning, leadership, resourcefulness and most of all pure wizard blood."

"Cunning, resourcefulness, and ambition," Wyatt repeated, "Now that sounds more like Chris."

"Chris didn't seem very ambitious and cunning to me," Hermione stated dubiously.

Wyatt shrugged. "Chris says part of being cunning and deceiving is to not seem cunning or deceiving. And just because Slytherins are ambitious doesn't mean they're ambitious about anything _bad_."

Hermione looked at Wyatt considerately. "I never thought about it that way," she said.

Wyatt shrugged. "People rarely see things beyond one perspective."

Hermione smiled at him, "Insightful. I didn't peg you for the philosophical type."

"I'm not," Wyatt said with a grin, "But Chris is."

"Oh. Hey Ron, do you want to come to the library with me? I need to get some books." Hermione asked as Ron struck the final defeating blow in his and Wyatt's chess game.

"Sure. Why not?" Ron answered gathering up his chess pieces.

"We should play cards next time," Wyatt said reclining in his chair. "I'd kick your butt at poker."

"You're on, mate," Ron called over his shoulder as he and Hermione left. Wyatt glanced at Harry and leaned down to pull his books out of his bag. He shuffled through them, staring at a sheet of paper that had all the assignments written on it.

"Do you usually get this much work on the first day?" Wyatt asked.

"Not really, but this is O.W.L. year so I suppose there should be a lot of work." Harry took a deep breath. "How much do you know about the war here?" he questioned suddenly.

Wyatt looked at him guardedly. "I'm not sure I know what you mean by that," he said lightly.

"Yes you do. Chris was talking to me about it before Divination." Harry watched Wyatt's face carefully noting the small flicker of surprise that was quickly replaced by a devil-may-care grin.

"Oh he was he."

Harry detected a hint of anger in the words and wasn't sure if it was directed at himself or Chris. "Yeah," Harry said plowing on ahead. "He said that he thought Hogwarts would be a target for Voldemort since Dumbledore and I are here."

Wyatt, like Chris, didn't flinch when Harry said Voldemort's name.

Maybe it's because they're Americans and don't know Voldemort's history, Harry thought. Or maybe they just aren't afraid of his name, like you or Dumbledore. Or maybe they're on his side, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. No. Chris may be in Slytherin, but Wyatt was a Gryffindor. Ginny is a Gryffindor. Voldemort had been able to influence her with just a memory.

Stop it, Harry told himself firmly. You're being paranoid. Not everyone who shows up and has secrets is in league with the Dark Lord.

"We know the basics," Wyatt responded. "We know about Voldemort, about his reign of terror, and his untimely half-dead demise thing with you, and about how he's back again in flesh to go another round with the warriors of the light. We believe you and Dumbledore."

"You do?"

"Of course I do. What kind of idiot lies about something like that?" Wyatt said rhetorically.

Harry shrugged. Why couldn't more people have Wyatt's thinking on the whole thing? Really what kind of person would lie about the most feared Dark Lord coming back from the dead/undead/non-dead?

He would be lying though, if he said that Wyatt telling him that he believed Harry's story didn't make him feel better. To just have one more, well two counting Chris, people on board with him definitely raised his spirits especially since most of the Wizarding community thought he was a lying attention seeker.

"What's 'The Borgarth Campaign'?"

"What?" Harry asked having no idea what Wyatt was talking about.

"The Borgarth Campaign. Chris wrote down that we're supposed to write an eleven inch essay for History on The Borgarth Campaign. I don't even know what that is," Wyatt said disbelievingly.

"Brilliant," Harry sighed dragging his bag over to him and pulling out his own History textbook. "Let's see if we can't figure it out."

†††

Halil sighed utterly bored with the proceedings commenced around him. He rolled his shoulders in a useless attempt to loosen his stiff shoulders. They'd been at it for hours, yet no agreement had been reached. He shifted again in his seat for the umpteenth time turning to look at the Source.

The demon had only held the proverbial throne for several months, but he was already proving himself to be one of the finest the Demonic community had ever seen. Halil should know, he'd served most of them as he served the current one now.

"I do not believe we can trust them, m'lord," one demon said loudly.

"I never said anything about trust, Zargot. We can use them to achieve power. It's all about power. Whoever has the most wins and I intend to make sure it is us." The Source's voice was low and soft but easily heard over the clamor of the chamber.

"But m'lord—"

"Be quiet, Zargot, or I may not be able to resist the urge to vanquish you, something I would loath to do as you have much to offer me," the Source said. The words were devoid of emotion making them even more frightening. The thing that made this Source one of the best was his ability to control the demons beneath him without vanquishing each one that toed the line. That meant he could keep the demons who actually knew what they were doing. The Source bowed his head in thought for a moment before looking up, face still shrouded in the traditional black hood. "Leave," he commanded, "Except you Halil."

Everyone immediately obeyed, shimmering, flaming, blinking, or orbing out. Halil remained seated. After everyone was gone he turned to the cloaked figure cocking an eyebrow in amusement.

"I really don't know how you do it," he remarked. "How you keep them all in line without vanquishing at least one an hour. I've never seen anything like it in all my years."

"Fear," was the emotionless reply he got.

Halil digested that, deciding that the Source was right. Fear was a powerful thing. All the demons were terrified of the Source. Even he was. The Source was an Old-being, one of the most powerful demons in existence, and one of the few to have crawled out of Hell.

The Source turned to Halil. "What do you think, Halil? I want to hear your thoughts."

Halil drummed his fingers on the table. "I think," he said, "that we can gain a lot from Tom Riddle."

**Chapter 12 to come soon :) Let me here your thoughts.**

**I want to thank all my reviewers, **Thenchick, PB, Binx23, A Midsummer Night's Dream, red*robin, Ollie912, crlncyln, Mitsu-Aya33, Starowner, allora123, nimby, phil, FirePony16, DestinYJaI, yaoifanboy, mclaughlin, and Mickey. **Thank you sooooo much, I really do enjoy every review.**

**Chris and Teresa's conversation translation:**

**Teresa**: "Cristóbal! Tenga cuántas veces yo dije no hacer eso?" **: Christopher! How many times have I said not to do that?**

"Ha sido un rato. Cómo estás?" : **It's been so long. How are you?**

**Chris**: "Bueno, y tu?" **: Good, and you?**

**Teresa**: "Muy bien," **: Very good.**

**I'll update as soon as possible….ohh what do you think about Halil—he'll be the main demon character :)….sooo anyway *waves***


	15. Detention Sucks

**Disclaimer: Me no own. You no sue. Make sense?**

**I am so sorry. It took me forever I know and I'm really really sorry about that. It just took a long time to write this chappie. I wrote some, deleted it, wrote again, altered this altered that and actually made up a timeline for the story so anyhoo I'm sorry.**

**As always thank you to all my readers, reviewers, and even glancers. **

**AN: For those it escaped…No one knows about Chris's trip to the past except the sisters, Leo, Victor, and some Elders. And maybe Darrel…not that he matters in this story. **

**So anyhoo…enjoy :)**

**Chapter Twelve**

_Halil drummed his fingers on the table. "I think," he said, "that we can gain a lot from Tom Riddle."_

"And what, Halil, do we stand to gain?" the Source questioned lacing his long, slender fingers.

Halil frowned unsure as to exactly _why _the Source suddenly had such a high interest in his opinions. There had to be some sort of ulterior motive here but whatever it was Halil failed to see it.

"Tom Riddle is the most powerful Dark Wizard alive today. He offers a way for you to obtain the magic of the Wizarding World. You would be the most powerful magical being. You would be able to finally conquer the Charmed Ones, the Twice-Blessed child, and the Elders. Your rule of all magic would be irrefutable."

The Source laughed, a surprisingly quite pleasant sound. "My dear child," he said softly, "You know from where I come. Therefore you know, were it my intention, the entire magical community would already be under my control. I ask you again, what do we stand to gain?"

Halil was silent, uncertain on how to answer.

The Source stood, gracefully rising to his feet and pacing about the room in a relaxed fashion. "No answer? Then I shall tell you. In a time before your comprehension I, my brothers and my sisters were the Gods of this world. We ruled the lands; we're worshipped and admired by all below us, which was many. But unrest developed, dividing my once peaceful family into feuding factions. And then those wretched mortals found a way to vanquish us!" he spat pivoting back to face Halil.

The venom in the Source's last words took Halil aback. It was the first time he'd ever seen any emotion from the Source. If he could have seen the ancient demon's face, Halil was certain it would portray an expression of utter lividity.

"They vanquished us. Banished us into the dark pit of Hell. And I'll tell you, Halil," the Source said absently fingering the end of a torch, "Hell makes the Wasteland look like the beach on a warm summer day complete with drinks and umbrellas."

He fell silent for a beat before continuing, "Sending us to Hell is one thing. But those pathetic mortals sealed us in. Locked the proverbial doors to Hell. We were trapped to endure suffering day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, decades, centuries, millennia…. But that wasn't even the worst. For though I and my brethren indeed were trapped in Hell, our father had been imprisoned within the prison. There he remains now, trapped in his cage in Hell. I intend to free him, Halil, and I tell you this because this is what Tom Riddle offers to me. Tom Riddle offers me a way to free my father and restore this world to what it once was."

†††

Chris stifled a yawn with his hand and flipped to the next page in the thick leather bound tome he was reading. It wasn't that the book was boring. Quite the opposite in fact, he had learned a great deal about the Wizarding world from it. However the print was so small and crammed, he had to squint and decipher each word, which proved to be an exhausting chore.

He had located a number of texts relating to the origins of the Wizarding World but none on the Wiccan World. He had set aside those tomes he was allowed to remove from the library and had settled down to read some of the others before detention. He already decided to skip dinner as he wasn't hungry even though he'd only eaten two apples for lunch. Jet lag, he supposed. All he wanted to do was sleep and down three or four aspirin.

Chris glanced absently at his watch, and tipped the chair over backwards when he stood up to quick. He caught it with his telekinesis before it could hit the floor and straightened it. He crammed the books in his bag, sitting the ones he was done with on a cart, and sprinted from the library. He slid to a halt, nearly growling in frustration, as he realized he once again had no idea where to go. And he was already late for detention.

He bit his lip. Harry, Chris thought, he would already be in Umbridge's room. He sensed for the wizard, and set off at an easy jog in the general direction. Chris ended up phasing through several walls and even a floor, but he eventually ended up outside the right door.

Without knocking, Chris opened the door and strode in. Harry was sitting at one of the two student desks just picking up a crimson quill. A matching pile of parchment and quill was on the other desk. Professor Umbridge was sitting in her plump pink glory behind her large desk.

Chris paused in the doorway, slightly nauseated by all the pink in the room, not to mention the cats. It was like Preston's room, only Hell's version, with the she-devil herself.

"It's so nice of you to join us, Christopher, dear," Umbridge said sweetly. Harry looked up giving Chris a slight smile. Chris inclined his head entering the room.

He shrugged dropping his bag with a heavy thud next to his chair. "What else do I have to live for?"

Umbridge frowned and Chris found himself struggling to suppress a small grin of satisfaction at the frustration pouring off the woman.

"You'll be writing lines. Your line is 'I will respect my elders.' You'll write it as many times as I judge necessary for it to…sink in," she said.

"You haven't given us any ink, Professor," Harry said.

"Oh you won't be needing any. Just start writing," the Professor answered.

Harry glanced over at Chris and shrugged. He picked up his quill and set it on the paper. Chris picked up his own quill, inspecting it. It was sharp, thin and dark red in color, almost like blood. It was an altogether freaky looking writing utensil.

Chris felt of jab of pain and heard Harry gasp. He looked up sharply. Harry had written his first line and it was glistening wetly on the paper, but he was staring intently at the back of his hand, which as far as Chris could tell, was perfectly normal looking.

Chris stuck his foot out nudging the leg of Harry's desk to get his attention. 'What?' Chris mouthed.

Harry nodded his head at the parchment. 'Write,' he mouthed back. Chris frowned, but did as he was told, writing his line across the top of the paper. The words appeared in a color all Halliwells were only to familiar with; the color of blood. Chris hissed at a pain on the back of his hand. There etched in his skin were the words he'd just written on the paper. As he watched the cuts healed over leaving unblemished skin in its wake.

'Ah mi dios,' Chris thought, 'What the Hell?' He looked at Harry in disbelief. This was plain demonic. Detention defiantly didn't normally constitute in giving your students freaky emo pens to slice themselves with.

His face must have shown his shock and disapproval because Harry gave a firm shake of his head and set his jaw stubbornly.

"Is something wrong, dears?" Umbridge asked. Chris wished she would stop calling him that. It was creepy.

Harry looked at him and shook his head faintly. Don't say anything the look said plainly. He dropped his eyes to his parchment stubbornly beginning to write again.

Taking Harry's cue, Chris smiled at Umbridge. "Nahh," he said, "Everything's just awesome."

Umbridge frowned at him. "Continue your lines Christopher."

Chris mimicked her looking back at his paper. He wrote his line again. I. Will. Respect. My. Elders. And again. I. Will. Respect. My. Elders. Chris smiled inwardly more than a little amused at the possible double meaning behind the words. I will respect _my_ _Elders_. Ha. As if. No one in his family actually respected those stuck up gold dress wearing idiots. He wrote his line another time already use to the stinging on the back of his hand.

The sun set bathing the room in a brilliant golden glow before descending past the tree line and allowing darkness to fall over the grounds. Candles sputtered to life at a wave of a wand. Chris and Harry continued to write.

At length Umbridge stood up and cleared her throat. _Ahem. Ahem._

"Let me see your hand," she said to Harry. She grabbed it roughly, turning it this way and that. "It should do for tonight." Umbridge waved her hand at Harry dismissing him. He walked over to the door but didn't leave.

"Yours," Umbridge commanded reaching for Chris's hand. Chris held it out hesitantly really not liking the idea of her pudgy hands on his. He'd have to go scrub his hands with Clorox and disinfectant after this.

Chris gasped when Umbridge grabbed his hand, her fat digits running over his skin. He snuffed down the feelings unbridled terror that had sprung up and focused on not tearing his hand from hers.

The image in his mind was incomprehensible. It was him and it was her, but it wasn't possible. He had never seen the likes of this woman before today and he wasn't one to forget the people who tried to kill him. Especially if they almost succeeded.

She prodded a finger at the red skin on the back of his hand sending a jolt of pain up his arm that did cause him to snatch his hand back. Chris glared at her hatefully.

Umbridge clucked her tongue. "That will do for tonight. Do try not to be late tomorrow, and you'll have detention all next week as well for being late today."

Chris just nodded, still shocked from the vision. He grabbed his bag and stumbled out the door pushing by Harry who looked confused. Chris took a deep breath, hiking his bag up over his shoulder.

He was the son of a Charmed one and an Elder. He was the younger brother of the Twice Blessed Child. He was a powerful magical being in his own right. There was no reason for him to be terrified of a stupid little, pink clad, wand waving, British accented, ministry working, high and mighty witch.

But he was. It was that simple. For some ungodly know reason the woman terrified him. Because of something she had but hadn't done? Or will but won't do? God, none of it made sense.

Chris nearly phased through the floor when someone grasped his shoulder.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"What?" Chris said. "Oh yeah. I'm fine."

"Really? Cause you look…shaken."

Chris stared at him with one slightly raised eyebrow. "Harry," he said slowly enunciating every syllable, "that woman just made us sit in a room for four hours slicing and dicing the back of our own hands. So if I look a little 'shaken', maybe that's why. Is everyone here insane?"

Harry winced and shook his head. Whether it was in answer to Chris's question or simply to gather his thoughts, Chris neither knew nor cared. The question had been rhetorical anyway.

"Are you going to tell anyone?" Harry asked

"Am I going to tell anyone," Chris repeated. "Of course I'm not gonna tell anyone. Who would we tell anyway? It'd be our word against hers right now unless we have proof. And no one in their right mind is going to listen to a couple of students. The only person who would believe us is Dumbledore, but I ain't gonna be the one to tell him. As far as I'm concerned this is between me and you and her and that's it."

Harry nodded. "Good. I agree with you. It's between us and her. No one else needs to know."

"Aren't you going to tell Ron and Hermione?"

"No, I'm not going to bloody tell them. Are you going to tell Wyatt?"

Chris laughed faintly. "Not if I want to keep my sanity and him out of jail."

"Good," Harry said going up the Grand staircase while Chris went down. "I'll see you around Matthews."

"Adios, Harry."

†††

Wyatt paced back and forth in the empty classroom he was meeting Chris in. His impatience was soaring high right about now. Chris had said he would meet him no later than eight-thirty. It was nine oh-five now, and sensing for Chris revealed him to still be in Umbridge's office. Wait, he was moving. Finally.

A couple minutes later the door opened quietly and in walked the younger Halliwell. He sank into the nearest desk wearily stuffing his hands into his pockets and slouching.

"That bad, huh?" Wyatt said sympathetically.

Chris shrugged. "Nahh, just tired is all. So what do you think?" he asked switching subjects.

Wyatt grinned. "Foods great. Guys are cool. And the girls," he whistled slowly, "the girls are hot."

Chris scowled at him. _"Wyatt."_

"Come on, man. Have you seen some of these British chicks? Have you _seen_ Melinda Bobbin or _Katie Bell,_" he asked waggling his eyebrows.

Chris's scowl, if possible, deepened and he crossed his arms. _"What about Angela? You know—your __**girlfriend**__."_

Wyatt waved his hand absently. "We broke up." At Chris's stern look Wyatt sighed and expanded. "Well it was more of a joint decision to stop seeing each other."

Chris rolled his eyes. "_Ohh. Now can we please get back to the issue at hand?"_

"What! You mean I can't talk about smokin' British girls anymore?"

Chris glowered at him.

"Okay, okay. I get it. You're not in the mood. I'll be serious. This could actually work. I admit I thought this was a harebrained idea, but it could work."

"_Okay. So what do you actually __**think**__ about this place. Hogwarts. Harry. Dumbledore. Umbridge."_

Wyatt shrugged, wrinkling his nose in thought. "Dumbledore knows what he's doing. This castle is like full on evil proof. The wards around this place are like epic level powerful. _I'd_ have trouble breaking them. Umbridge's an ass, and Harry's going to be a handful. He a trouble magnet I think and he doesn't like being protected. He'd probably try and jump out in front of us, nevermind the fact that we're supposed to be jumping out in front of him."

Chris nodded. _"But—"_

"You know, speaking of Harry," Wyatt continued, "he told me somethin' interesting to day. He told me that you were talking to him about the war and sayin' stuff about Voldy. Now maybe I'm mistaken but I thought we were doing this with a subtle-just-start-hanging-around-with-them-cos-they're-the-only-people-we-know-here approach instead of the mystery-hanging-around-cos-we-know-something-and-are-your-private-bodyguards."

"_It just seemed like a good idea."_

"At the time," Wyatt added snarkily.

"_No. It still does. Back on track. Harry. Dumbledore. Umbridge. Don't you get any kind of feeling like you know them from somewhere?" _ Chris implored.

"Ahh, no. Not really. Should I?" Wyatt said.

Chris shrugged. _"Yes. No. I don't know. Ever since I got here I've had the strangest sense of familiarity. Like I've been here before."_

"Are you sure it's not just some psychometric-omniscient vibe?"

"_It…feels different. Unclear. And I got these visions—"_

"Visions?" Wyatt interrupted. "Visions. Why the Hell didn't you tell me you had visions."

Chris scowled at Wyatt. He seemed to be doing a lot of scowling tonight. Did he have some sort of quota or something. _"I'm tellin' you now, ya freakin' idiot."_

Wyatt resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. "Well maybe you have a new power," he said instead, "Like premonition."

Chris shook his head speaking aloud. "No. I've seen premonitions before; through Pheebs and that one time we switched powers. They weren't premonitions. I'm not even sure what _time_ they were."

"Well maybe it's a different power," Wyatt said sitting next to his brother. "What were these visions about?"

Chris rolled his eyes at his brother with a sigh. "I got the first one in DADA right after Umbridge said we weren't in any danger. I saw this man. He—got hit by a curse and then fell through an arch with drapes, and then nothing. I felt like I knew him, and I know that he died there. I didn't see it, but I _know_ that he is dead, like I can feel it. The loss or something." Chris paused scrubbing a hand over his face. "And the second one I got after Umbridge touched my hand. She tried to kill me. She hit me with the Avada Kedavra."

Wyatt's eyes widened comically. "She's going to try and kill you? Ohhh…I'm gonna vanquish her. I'm gonna blow her to bits," he ranted standing up.

Chris grabbed Wy's shirt yanking him back into his seat. "No. Shut up and sit down. One, you can't vanquish a human being. Two she isn't going to kill me. I don't know Wy, but I just have this feeling that it's already happened."

"Already happened? I don't understand."

"Neither do I, but I'll figure it out."

Wyatt sighed clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Right. Okay man, you gotta take us to see Mom."

"What?"

"You know do that projection thing and take me with you."

Chris did a good impression of a goldfish for a moment. "Wy…I'm not sure I can from this far away. I struggled to do it from the manor to Grandpa's!" he protested.

"Well you won't know till you try," Wyatt chirped happily pulling Chris down to settle on the floor. "Come on, come on," he said holding his hands up palms out.

Chris sighed heavily and placed his hands against Wyatt's. "Alright, alright I'll try. Probably going to end with us in a matchbox," he muttered.

Wyatt closed his eyes feeling the familiar caress of Chris's mind brush against his own. He felt a wave of cold sweep over him, a sort of pressure building in his head. He sucked in a deep breath at the rushing sensation filling his body. It seemed as if Chris was having more trouble than the last time he had projected with Wyatt. The rushing faded and Wyatt blinked finding himself in the living room of the manor.

"Boys!" Two surprised voices echoed off the walls. Piper and Leo sat as far away from each other as they could get on the sofa. Piper combed her hair from her face and Leo rubbed the back of his neck. Both of them were a little flushed looking.

"Ahem, uh boys…what, what are you doing here?" Piper asked lightly.

Wyatt laughed uncomfortably. "Um…sorry. I, uh, kinda suggested we, uh, visit. Bad timing. We can leave, yeah were gonna go—"

"No. No. It's not a bad time," Piper said wrapping Wyatt in a tight hug.

Wyatt hugged her back. "Mom, you know it's only been one day," he teased.

"Are you telling me I'm not allowed to miss my boys?" Piper released Wyatt embracing Chris.

"Nahh we just thought it would take mor—" Chris was cut off. Wyatt got the horrible sensation of being sucked through a very small space. His ears were stuffed with cotton; he could hear voices, but they were muted, distorted by an odd buffeting sound. And then he was at the manor again.

"What the hell was that? Boys? Answer me," Piper demanded.

"Piper calm down," Leo said.

"Sorry," Chris said, "It's a bit more difficult projecting this far with you in tow Wy."

"So that squishing feeling…" Wyatt began.

"Was your consciousness forcibly returning to your physical body."

"Oh," Wyatt said, "well that was…"

"_Pleasant?"_

"I was going to say awful," Wyatt finished.

"So boys did you come for a reason or were you just homesick?" Leo asked.

Wyatt blinked and smiled pulling Chris down onto the sofa next to him. "Chris has a new power," he said happily.

"What?" his parents exclaimed as Chris protested.

"Okay, okay…_I _think he has a new power," Wyatt relented.

"Why?" Piper said.

"I had these…visions," Chris explained.

Leo drew his eyebrows together confused. "You already had visions."

"Not like these."

"Are they of the future?" Leo asked.

Chris shook his head. "Nope…at least I don't think so. I don't know when they were. One I'm pretty sure was the past, but it never happened so I don't know what it was. I'm not even sure I'd call them visions; they were more like flashes or something."

"I'll ask Paige to talk to the Elders about it tomorrow," Piper said.

"One of the teachers tries to kill him in one," Wyatt said bluntly. If his brother wasn't going to acknowledge the danger here then he was.

"_Wyatt! What are you doing!" _Wyatt ignored him.

"OOOhhh. Oh no. I'm gonna kill him. I'm going to blow him up—"

"Mother!" Chris shouted. "NO. No you're not. There is nothing to worry about. What is it with you two and blowing people up?" he demanded looking from Wyatt to Piper.

"She's going to try and _kill_ you Chris. That is a cause for worry," Wyatt said.

"Son, did you talk to Professor Dumbledore about—" Leo started.

"No. Come on. Demons try to kill us weekly. I can handle a wizard and I told you it already happened," Chris said.

"Yeah, see honey I don't understand. What do you mean it 'already happened'?" Piper asked.

Chris shrugged. "I have no idea. I just know that it already happened. Look let's just leave it go for now. Moving on, how's everything going with the Order Mom?"

Piper frowned not liking the subject change but going with it. "Not good. We have no leads to speak of and every time we think we're going to get an answer we only get a gazillion more questions. We still have no idea what Voldemort wants with that Nexus. Whatever it is they've given it up for now. All in all we've hit a dead end."

"Sounds awesome," Chris said. "Do you think he's working with demons?" he mused.

Wyatt shrugged. "Probably. It'd just be our luck."

Leo and Piper smiled. "We're not ruling it out," she said, "but enough talk of magical business you boys hungry?"

Wyatt grinned. "Hell yeah."

"Language Wyatt," Leo said.

"Uh, Wy you're an astral being. You can't actually eat anything," Chris pointed out.

Wyatt's face fell. "Oh, well that's not fair."

"Too bad. We can't stay anyway. We gotta go before someone finds us just sitting in a random classroom," Chris said.

"Fine," Wyatt muttered. "Bye Mom, Dad."

"Bye sweetie, bye peanut."

"Bye boys, be good."

Chris smirked. "See ya," he said laying a hand on Wyatt's shoulder.

There was a rushing feeling again and Wyatt was sitting back on the floor Chris across from him. Chris was shaking, eyes closed and taking deep breaths.

"Chris? Hey you okay?" Wyatt said worriedly.

"_Just give me a second. I'll be fine." _Chris picked his head up smiling weakly at his brother. "You're a pain to project with you know that." He took Wyatt's proffered arm, pulling himself to his feet. Chris swayed slightly and he looked a little pale.

"You sure you're alright?"

"Oh yeah, I'm great," Chris said.

"Good. So what now?" Wyatt asked.

Chris grinned at him. "We play the game."

†††

Harry walked into the common room stopping short when he saw Ron on one of the overstuffed chairs by the fire. He looked exhausted to put it simply, like he'd run a marathon in the Sahara.

"Hey Ron," Harry said taking a seat.

"Oh hullo Harry."

"You look beat. What'd you do? Did Wyatt beat you at cards?"

"Ha ha," Ron said, "And no. I haven't seen Wyatt actually. Have you?"

"No, but I've been in detention for the last four hours. I haven't seen anyone really," Harry replied. "Where's Hermione?"

"Reading. In her dormitory," Ron said, "I don't know why she has so much to do. It's only the first day."

Harry grinned. "Yeah but look at all the work we have and we don't have half of the harder classes she does."

"Suppose so," Ron said absently. "Do you know when the Quidditch tryouts are?"

"Err, they're this Friday. Why?" Harry said.

"I dunno. No reason."

Harry dropped his next question as the door to the boy's dormitory opened and Seamus, Dean and two other Gryffindors walked in. The group fell silent when they saw Harry and Ron. Seamus and Dean looked angry and the other two mumbled a few words before leaving quickly.

Seamus glared at Harry and Harry glared back feeling his anger spike.

"You've got something to say?" he demanded. He hated how all the students looked at him now. All the whispering and glances were getting under his skin.

Dean looked between the two before quickly snagging Seamus arm and pulling him away. "Nah, Harry. Seamus and I were just, er, going somewhere."

Seamus yanked his arm back glowering at Harry. "Do you have any idea what you did? My mam almost didn't let me come back because of what you said."

Harry wrestled his building anger down. "Well I'm sorry I inconvenienced you. Not sure why anything I did would influence your ability to come here, but—"

"Not just you. You and Dumbledore both," Seamus said in a measured voice. He'd stopped glowering and was simply avoiding Harry's eye now.

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked Seamus. He had a pretty good idea what Seamus meant but he wanted to be sure. He felt vaguely as though something was closing in on him.

"Me mam, she, well er, she believes the Daily Prophet, you see."

"You mean she thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?" said Harry.

Seamus finally looked at him again. "Something like that, yeah."

"I'm not a liar," Harry snapped.

"But you won't tell anyone about it either," Seamus said. "What really happened that night with…you know, Diggory and all?"

"What are you asking me for?" Harry retorted. "Why don't you just read the Daily Prophet like your mother? That will tell you _all_ you need to know."

"Don't you have a go at my mother," Seamus bit back.

"I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar," Harry yelled.

"Oi you lot, calm down," Ron said. Seamus and Harry ignored him.

"Don't talk to me like that!" Seamus shouted.

"I'll talk to you how I want!" Harry said, his temper rising higher.

"HEY! SHUT UP BOTH OF YOU!" Ron hollered in his best prefect voice. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Huh Seamus? Harry?"

"Nothing," said Harry. He turned to the dormitory stairs stalking up them quickly. He slammed the door closed and kicked his trunk. Smart move. Now his foot throbbed along with his anger. He closed his eyes taking deep breaths.

He'd so desperately waited to come back all summer, but now that he was here he felt more lost than ever. He pulled off his robes furiously, fighting back his rage and frustration.

Harry heard the door open, but didn't turn to see who it was.

"Hey, you okay?" Ron asked.

Harry sighed. "I'm fine."

"Don't worry about him or anyone. They'll come around eventually. You'll see," Ron continued.

"I said I'm fine Ron," Harry replied heatedly.

There was a pause before Ron answered. "Alright then. I'll just leave you to your thoughts," he said leaving.

Harry sighed again climbing into his bed. He curled up under the covers wishing he could just fade into them and disappear forever. He felt terrible for biting Ron's head off, but he didn't feel like talking to anyone.

He rolled over trying to find a more comfortable spot and stared out the window. He hadn't thought returning to Hogwarts would be like this.

**Alrighty…you know the drill…hit the button and give me twenty…words that is **

**So, next update should hopefully be soon as in faster than this one *smiles***

**News for my other stories- Series of Unfortunate Events will be updated soon…within the next week I think…and the first part of Drag Me Under (don't worry this one's only three parts tops) may or may not be up soon. I dunno.**

**Anyhoo…Please review and I'll update asap :) until then…Smiles! *waves like an idiot***


	16. Enter Mysterious Folk

**Chapter Thirteen**

**And I'm back again with another chapter. Let me tell you…this one was like hell to write. I wasn't sure where to go in this chapter because I was reading over what I'd written before and I was kinda frustrated with how slow the plot was moving, but it will pick up in the next chapters. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine…yaddy yaddy ya…**

**AN: Sorry Thenchick, but yes Sirius has to go. Some things are just meant to be. :( Part of me is saying 'save him, save him' but he just has to die. Otherwise some things just won't make sense and Harry won't do what needs to be done. Sucks to be Sirius huh? Poor Padfoot.**

**I want to thank ALL my reviewers and apologize if anyone is upset that I didn't reply to their review. I do read all of them…really :) Anyhoo a thanks to all my readers as well because I know that you're there. **

**And without further ado…I present Chapter Thirteen: Enter Mysterious Folk. **

_Chris ran through the dark trees his breathing ragged and painful. He gasped, legs shaking, but he pushed himself faster. He had to get back. Needed too, before _**he**_ got there. _

_Chris stumbled, swearing as he skidded painfully on the ground. He ignored his stinging hands, struggling back to his feet and started running again. Curse the stupid wards that prevented him from orbing and curse _**him**_. _

_A paralyzing fear gripped him as he realized he was covering ground way too slow. There was no way he'd make it back in time. He was too slow. Despair nearly overwhelmed him and he ran faster, terror giving him strength where his endurance failed. _

_He broke through the tree line of the Forbidden forest, nearly crying in relief when he saw Hogwarts. But he still needed to get inside. He started up the long hill, crawling more than running. He could barely breathe and his lungs felt like they were on fire, but he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. They wouldn't die too. Wouldn't die because of him. He wouldn't survive losing them. _

_A sense of hopelessness settled over him and Chris screamed in frustration, scrambling to his feet and sprinting for the door. He was so close…but already too late. _**He** _was here. Chris slammed into the doors, shoving them open with his telekinesis. They groaned inward hitting the walls with a loud thud. Chris dashed through heading to the Grand Staircase. Panic slammed into him with each step he climbed, dragging his pace down. He scrambled up the last stairs racing through the corridors. _

_Chris rounded the corner and halted immediately, eyes trained on the dark figure and unmoving form on the floor at the end. No. God, please no. The dark figure turned around slowly. Chris's heart froze cold, unbridled horror slicing through him. The flat white face grinned sadistically at him filling his vision…_

Chris jerked awake, panic still rampant in his system as he thrashed for something familiar. He gasped for air forcing himself to lay still and banish the images from his mind. Untangling himself from his sheets, he grabbed one of the potion bottles he kept near his bed and stumbled to the dormitory bathroom reaching out blindly to run some cold water. He uncorked the vial and downed the draught of peace potion, gulping it down greedily. Chris set the glass bottle down and splashed a handful of water over his face letting the calming effects of the potion wash away the fright. He rubbed his eyes wearily before finally looking in the mirror.

Chris almost laughed at the pathetic image staring back at him. He looked terrible. Chris sighed shoving his sweat drenched hair out of his pale face. He felt cold and sick, but calm thanks to the potion. Staring at himself, Chris watched in familiar amazement as his eyes faded back from muddied blue to their usual green color when the last remnants of the nightmare slipped away. He still remembered it clear as day, but now it was just a memory unable to affect him anywhere near as strong as it had in the dream.

Picking at the now wet shirt he was wearing, Chris tip toed quietly back in to the dorm room infinitely glad he'd managed to not wake his dorm mates. He stared pitifully at the disheveled bed and sweat soaked sheets before muttering a quick spell to clean it up. Screw personal gain and screw the golden robed sticks in the mud. He gathered some clothes and his school robe grabbing a quick shower before snatching his bag and heading to the common room. It was four thirty in the morning; too early to go to the Great Hall and early enough that he was the only person in the room.

He settled in a corner pulling out his journal. He'd gotten it a year and a half ago at Teresa's suggestion after the dreams started and recorded every dream he had in hopes of making sense of them. He kept it with him at all times or hidden securely when it was impossible to keep it on his person. So far he'd had no luck making sense of the dreams, because most of the nightmares were reoccurring. The one's he'd had since coming to Hogwarts, however, were new.

In the three nights he'd slept here, there had been a different nightmare each night. The Draught of Peace vials he had taken from his first Potions class proved to have little effect on preventing the dreams, but were excellent at calming him when he woke. That hope for preventing the dreams dashed, Chris now needed to figure out how to get the ingredients for the dreamless sleep potion. He supposed he could just ask, but he'd rather no one know he was taking it. Wyatt would probably blow a gasket.

Chris sighed, writing out his most recent dream quickly on a blank page. It took almost forty-five minutes for Chris to detail the dream and analyze it for clues. Finding nothing useful that he hadn't already known—he was at Hogwarts and Voldemort was trying to kill someone or someones who were evidently important to him and Chris had no idea who they were—Chris snapped the book shut and decided to head up to breakfast even though no one else had been through the common room yet.

When he arrived at the Great Hall there were only two other people there. A blond girl wearing the most ridiculous earrings Chris had ever seen (were those radishes?) and some kid at the Hufflepuff table. Chris ignored them crossing the room to his own table.

The first thing he looked for at the deserted Slytherin table was coffee. He'd learned two things since he'd arrived at Hogwarts. A) Jet lag was a bitch. And B) Nightmares made jet lag an even bitchier bitch.

Chris downed his first mug in a few mouthfuls dismissing the burning in his throat and immediately refilled it. He dug out the latest book he'd gotten from the library last evening and propped it up on the table to resume skimming though it. Despite Teresa's 'help', Chris had found nothing so far in the school's library and was tempted to sneak a peek into the Ministry Library as is was sure to have more books than Hogwarts, but for now he remained at the school.

The thing was; he actually didn't know what he was looking for exactly. So, for all he knew he could be reading right over important information.

Chris didn't know how long he'd been sitting there downing cup after cup of coffee, but eventually the room lightened with morning sun and people filtered into the hall. Most of the students stayed away from Chris; he wasn't the most popular kid anywhere it seemed. The hall was almost full when someone plopped down in the seat across from him.

"Good morning bro," Wyatt said sounding way more cheerful than a person had a right to be in the morning. His cheery tone actually made Chris look up. Wyatt usually couldn't manage a coherent word in the morning, much less a phrase, unless he was going on a demon hunt. Taking in his brother's happy expression, Chris decided Wyatt had gotten over jet lag a lot faster than he was going to. Then again, Chris had always been more sensitive to his internal clock.

"Mornin'" Chris said sipping at his coffee.

Wyatt frowned. "You look terrible. Are you feelin' okay?"

Chris shrugged noncommittally, too tired to come up with a witty retort. "Jet lag," he offered by way of explanation.

Wyatt nodded slowly piling food onto his plate. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but simply dug into his breakfast. Chris didn't ask, returning to his coffee and book.

"I've been thinking," Wyatt said at length.

"Really? I warned you 'bout that," Chris replied. He flipped the page of the book he was reading without so much as glancing up.

"I'll ignore that," Wyatt said taking a bite of bacon. He lowered his voice so the kids around the two couldn't hear him. "So anyway, if Voldemort is working with demons that means the two magical worlds are working together right? Which means that both sides will be even more powerful."

Chris tapped the page and looked up at his brother. "Really Wyatt? Did you figure that all out on your own?" He shook his head and returned to his book.

Wyatt scowled at him. "I'm not finished. I don't think Voldemort would work with demons unless he could gain something from it and we know demons wouldn't work with wizards unless they'd get their cut. And we know Voldemort was looking for a Nexus."

"Yeah, but we don't know why. He's a wizard, he couldn't tap into the power," said Chris.

"No, but the demons could. If the demons tap into the Nexus and Voldemort taps into the demons magic—"

Chris looked up sharply, realization at what his brother was on about dawning. "Then Voldemort would have access to the Nexus ultimately creating an all superior power even to you. And the demons would have access to the wizards." Chris said. "That's not good."

"No, but if he can do it so can our side, right? The Order could tap into our magic and we could tap into a Nexus," Wyatt said.

Chris shook his head. "Absolutely not. For one we don't have a Nexus. And two, we have no idea what kind of magic would result from fusing Wiccan and Wizarding together. It could be disastrous."

"I thought ours was basically the same as Wizarding," Wyatt said puzzled

Chris's expression went blank. "It is," he said softly.

"What? You look like you just put something together," Wyatt asked.

Chris nodded absently. He stood up suddenly packing up his books and walking away without a word.

"Ah, Chris, where are you going?"

Chris grinned over his shoulder. "To the library. You are a genius mi amigo," he said practically sprinting out of the Great Hall.

"Genius? Me? Oh well thanks for sharin' bro," Wyatt muttered picking up his food and moving to the Gryffindor table. "Seriously."

†††

Harry descended the Grand staircase despondently. This day was just starting out great. He sighed jumping down the last few steps to the landing.

Chris was jogging up the stairs mumbling under his breath. "I've been looking in the wrong place," he muttered. "I need to look at the Wizarding world not my world. How could I have forgotten? My world came from this world which means—"

Harry furrowed his brow. What the bloody hell was that about? "Hey Matthews. What are you whispering about?"

Chris looked up silencing his under breath mumblings. "Ah...Hey Golden Boy. Watcha doin' here?" he said smirking and taking in Harry's dejected expression. "You look like you just got reamed."

"I, uh yeah. Angelina had a talk with me," said Harry falling into step with the American going back up the stairs. He wasn't sure why since he and Chris didn't talk much aside from a few moments before and after detention with Umbridge. Harry supposed he still harbored an unfair prejudice against the Slytherin for being well, Slytherin.

"Angelina…"

"Johnson. She's the Quidditch captain and the tryouts are tomorrow evening. She wants all the team to be there," Harry explained.

"But we have detention Friday," Chris finished.

"Yeah."

"So you're screwed."

"Yeah."

"Sucks to be you man. I thought tryouts were Sunday," Chris said.

"Er, no. Slytherin tryouts are but Gryffindor tryouts are Friday," said Harry.

"Oh."

The conversation fell silent as Harry followed Chris. Harry frowned wondering if tagging along with the American had been a good idea after all.

"Are you trying out?" Harry asked suddenly.

Chris shrugged glancing at the Gryffindor. "I don't know, maybe I'll give it a shot. I don't have a broom though," he said wrinkling his nose.

"The school will give you one if you need it," Harry said. "Wyatt's trying out I think. He's been practicing with Ron while we're at detention. So…er, where are we going?"

"Uh, the library. I need to…check something," Chris answered evasively.

"Right. And that would be?"

"Just a hobby thing. I'm sure anyone could tell you I'm a neurotic bookworm," Chris said.

"No one needs to tell me that," Harry muttered. He may not know Chris that well, and one of the reasons for that was because Chris was often buried in a book. Even when they were supposed to be paying attention in class.

Chris chuckled entering the library and heading to the back. He ran his fingers over the spines of the books. "Ah, here it is," he said pulling a large book down. "Darn it's big."

"What is it?" Harry asked. The book was dusty and looked like the kind that no one ever read.

"This, Harry mi amigo, is a book," Chris said brightly.

Harry scowled, noting once again that both the Americans referred to people by their first names rather than addressing others with their last names. Even people they didn't know that well. Harry wondered if Chris thought it was odd when Harry called him Matthews. "I know that. I meant what is it about?" Harry said.

"Ohhh," Chris said with an entirely innocent expression. "This."

He held the book up so Harry could read the title. "_The Origins of Magicks_. Why do you want that?"

Chris frowned and shook his head in mock disappointment. "No interest in academics. So sad. Come on, are you really telling me you never wondered where your magic came from? Not the from your parents or thousands of years ago crap either. I mean like the beginning beginning, where it started, with _life_," he said spreading his hands out and gesturing upward.

Harry blinked at him. "No. I can honestly say I have never given that a thought."

Chris stared at him a moment. "Wow. You're weird," he said ignoring Harry's scandalized look. Chris was calling _him_ weird? Chris set the book on the counter flashing a grin at Madam Pince.

"Hey Irma, check out."

The librarian nodded, her vulture like head bobbing up and down. She shot a sour look at Harry causing him to take an involuntary step back, before turning back at Chris. "How's the reading coming? You've checked out an impressive array of texts these last few days. Have you found what you're looking for?"

So Chris had been checking out a lot of books. Looked like Harry had been right to categorize him as male Slytherin Hermioneoid. He wondered what Chris was looking for.

"Not really. But this one looks promising. Oh I brought peanuts," Chris added like an afterthought. He fished a small pouch out of his bag plopping it on the counter.

Madam Pince raised an eyebrow and picked it up regarding it curiously.

"Call it a thank you gift for putting up with me for the last few days. Know I must have a real pain in the wazoo," Chris said.

"Thank you Chris. Don't you worry about that. It's nice to meet a student who shares same love for books," she said shooting a glare at Harry for no reason. "Here you are." She handed Chris the book back.

"Thanks Irmi," Chris said grabbing the book sliding it into his bag.

"What was that?" Harry muttered as the boys left the library.

Chris looked at him naively. "What was what?"

"Irma? Irmi? _Peanuts_? She didn't even glare at you!" Harry demanded melodramatically.

Chris arched his eyebrows. "So?"

"It's...It's just," Harry floundered helplessly, "Not normal."

"Guess she just couldn't resist my charm," Chris said smirking.

Harry sighed. "And you said I was the weird one."

Chris just grinned and shrugged. "Come on. It's transfiguring time right? Let's see if I can blow up another cup," he said, and was that cheerfulness Harry detected his voice? Harry eyed him curiously. A cheerful Chris. That was a new one; even if he'd only know the American for three days.

As it turned out there were no blown up cups in Transfiguration, much to McGonagall's relief, however there was the small matter of the incinerated snail. Harry thought it was surprising that the two Americans were actually rather rotten spell casters when it came down to it. Neither of them were anywhere near unintelligent. In reality it seemed Chris and Wyatt knew the spells by heart. They had no problem with the words or wand movements; they just had an exceptional amount of difficulty actually _performing_ the spell. Like Chris right now.

Harry coughed and waved his hand in front of his face in a fruitless attempt to dispel the stench of fried snail.

"Poor thing," Chris muttered. "What a violent end." He poked the small pile of ashes and black clumps with the end of his wand despondently.

"You can say that again," Harry said.

Chris shrugged leaning back in his chair. "Aww well, guess I don't have anything else to do for the rest of class."

Hermione glanced over at him disapprovingly. "You can get another snail, Chris," she said successfully vanishing yet another of her own. As of now she was the only one of the trio that called Chris Chris, instead of Matthews.

"And rob you of your pleasure? I couldn't. I'll just sit back and watch everyone else send their snails into non-being," Chris quipped.

Wyatt frowned at his brother waving his wand at his snail again. "Except for me."

"And me," Ron echoed wincing as his snail turned bright pink. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

Harry chuckled. "Not having any luck here either, mates." His snail was still firmly planted in the middle of his desk.

Hermione sighed. "You're doing it wrong," she said gently. "You need to move your wand like this." She demonstrated, waving her wand in an elaborate series of movements.

Harry rolled his eyes, but complied, copying her movements. "_Evanesco_," he said pronouncing the word clearly. The snail shimmered a bit and for a moment Harry thought he'd succeeded, but then the snail was back. Only its head was missing.

Chris leaned over whistling lightly. "Damn, that does not look good," he said chuckling.

Hermione stifled a laugh shaking her head. "Oh Harry."

Professor McGonagall huffed striding over to the inattentive group of students. "This is class, not a—" she began, breaking off at the sight of Ron's pink snail (that now had blue polka dots), Harry's headless one, and Chris's ash pile. McGonagall sighed and walked back to the front of the classroom.

"D'you think that means she thinks we're hopeless?" Harry asked no one in particular.

Chris pursed his lips adopting the expression of intense thought and nodded. "Yeah, probably," he answered flippantly, pulling out the book he'd gotten from the library. He propped it up on his desk quickly becoming absorbed in it.

Harry shook his head turning to Ron. The redhead was prodding his snail which had turned yellow now. "You know something mate?" Ron said, "I think she might be right…well 'cept for Hermione."

"Yeah," Harry said. "She's a genius."

"Hey, Hermione. Why does a genius such as yourself hang out with idiots like us anyway?" Ron asked teasingly.

Hermione smiled moving over to Ron and straightening out his wand movements. "Well _someone_ has to help you pass."

†††

Piper, Phoebe, Paige, and Leo all sat around the table silently listening to the reports of various Order members. Dumbledore was seated at the head of the table, fingers steepled elegantly as he listened with a concerned expression.

"You Know Who has fallen off the radar. We don't know where he is, we don't know what he's doing. Frankly it's not good," Elphias Dodge said.

Dedalus Diggle chimed in, "We lose him, we lose all our leads. With him out of action as it seems every Death Eater we're watching falls silent. We have nothing."

Dumbledore raised a hand for silence. "And you?" he asked the Americans. "How are things on your side?"

The Order had been told about the Wiccan World and that Piper, Phoebe, and Paige were powerful witches that could help. He hadn't told them that the three women were the Charmed Ones or that their name was Halliwell. Dumbledore had also left out Chris and Wyatt's involvement for precautionary reasons. The fewer people who knew about the boys posts at Hogwarts the better.

"Unsettled," Piper answered. "There's been a lot of demonic activity spiking in the last few weeks with no one origin. Word underground is there's a new Source, but no one knows who or where."

"We've got nothing concrete to work with. But if you have something that belonged to Voldemort we can try scyring. We might be able to locate him," Phoebe suggested.

Dumbledore nodded. "Severus, find something of Tom's to give to Phoebe. Meeting adjourned."

There was a scraping of chairs as the Order stood moving about the kitchen at Number 12 and cracks of air as the Wizards apparated.

Phoebe sighed. "This is shaping up to be one long haul sisters," she said.

"Yeah, and something tells me it's going to be the marathon of all hauls," Paige added.

"No kidding. What we've found the past week alone tells us this is bigger than anything we've handled before," Piper said. "And if this wizard joins forces with the demons like Albus thinks he will we're going to have one big fight on our hands."

"Humph, and here I thought Billie and Christy were the Ultimate Battle," Paige muttered. "Do you think the Angels of Destiny just make everything up as they go along?" she asked.

Leo frowned. "Paige…the Angels of Destiny—"

"You know what Paige," Phoebe interrupted, "I do."

Piper snorted. "Wouldn't surprise me one bit if they did."

"Girls," Leo began seriously.

"Spare us your Angel of Goodness lecture," Paige said waving a hand dismissively. "I'm sure we all have it memorized by now anyway."

Leo sighed. "I know, which is why I was just going say maybe we could focus more on the issue at hand and less on bashing Destiny."

"Oh, sorry dude," Paige said.

"Leo's right. Let's talk to Dumbledore before we leave. See if Snape has an object to scry with yet and if they have anything Pheebs can try to get a premonition from," said Piper.

Dumbledore and Snape walked over as if on cue.

"Leo," Dumbledore implored, "may I have a word with you in private for a moment while Severus speaks with the girls?"

Leo glanced at Piper before nodding his acquiesce. He followed the professor into a separate room. Dumbledore closed the door softly and turned around leveling his friend with a piercing stare. "I wish to speak with you about a certain matter. I do not understand it clearly myself, thus the reason for my asking. I hope you do not see it a prying," he said.

Leo raised his eyebrows. "Albus, what exactly is this about?"

Dumbledore laced his fingers together gracefully. "It is about young Christopher."

Leo sighed, running a hand over his face tiredly. He'd hoped, prayed, that Albus wouldn't notice the similarities, wouldn't remember enough to wonder what it meant. Obviously his hope had been in vain. Albus always had been too observant for his own good. "What do you mean?" Leo asked finally.

Albus smiled at him unnervingly. "Surely you know of what I speak, my friend?"

"No. I don't," Leo said. Perhaps he wouldn't have to discuss it; play dumb. He was blonde after all.

"Alas then I will say what I must. Christopher is your child?" Dumbledore said phrasing it like a question.

Leo's breath caught in his throat. Anyone thinking what Dumbledore was thinking was just so inherently _wrong_ that Leo knew there was no chance of him lying about it. "Yes," he answered. "Chris is my child."

Dumbledore nodded. "But of course you know where I am coming from? Young Christopher shows remarkable resemblance to a certain whitelighter we both knew, does he not?"

"He does," Leo whispered.

Dumbledore gazed at him intently. "And I can't help but speculate as to why, Leo. If you feel I am meddling do not hesitate to tell me, but I do so yearn for an answer."

Leo sighed heavily scrubbing a hand over his face. "It's complicated," he said at length. "And before I tell you, I'll have to speak with Piper."

Dumbledore nodded. "Understandable." He opened the door gesturing for Leo to exit. "We will discuss more later. For now, let us see how the girls are faring."

Piper glanced up questioningly as Leo and Albus approached. "Any luck?" Leo asked.

Phoebe shook her head. "I couldn't get anything, but we're still going to try the scrying. We'll contact you if we find anything," she said to Dumbledore. She and Piper held their hands out for Paige to take.

"We'll be in touch," Leo said joining hands with Piper. The Charmed Ones and Leo disappeared in a swirl of lights, orbing back to San Francisco.

Phoebe and Paige immediately headed for the scrying tools when they reappeared in the attic. Piper made to follow them, but stopped at Leo's troubled expression.

"Leo?" she asked gently.

"Albus is…suspicious," he said vaguely.

Piper furrowed her brows. "Suspicious? Suspicious of what?"

Phoebe and Paige looked over both puzzled.

Leo smiled grimly. "Of Chris. He's noticed the similarities."

"What?" Piper snapped already suspecting the answer. "What similarities?"

"To the other Chris," Leo answered. "When Chris was in the past he helped me out a few times. I just told Albus he was your whitelighter. Now though…" Leo sighed heavily. "He's wondering why his newest student looks like the whitelighter he remembers."

Piper covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. The subject of Chris Perry was still sore even after almost fifteen years.

"Are you sure?" Phoebe asked.

Leo nodded. "Yeah. He asked for an explanation. He asked if Chris was my child," he said softly.

Paige wrinkled her nose. "You mean he thought Chris was…eww"

"What did you tell him?" Piper said ignoring Paige.

"Nothing," said Leo, "Told him I had to speak with you first, but he knows something's up. In fact if he thinks about it long enough I have no doubt he'll figure it out himself."

Piper nodded. "We'll deal with that later. For now…" She left the statement hanging and joined her sisters with the maps.

Paige pointed at the globe catching Piper's drift that she wanted a subject change. "We should probably start big then narrow it down. Who knows where Voldy is."

†††

Chris skimmed the text in the book leisurely. He ended up skipping Charms and his next class, having found a book that actually seemed to be slightly promising to what he was seeking. He'd also put Wyatt on mute but was careful to continue monitoring his charges.

—_the New World was believed, at the time, to be a rare opportunity for the magical community. The Ministry dispatched a crew of one hundred Wizards to investigate the New World and gather data. _

_Information of what actually occurred once the assembly of Wizards arrived in the New World is sketchy at best. The Wizards sent overseas never reported back to the Ministry. It's been concluded that the Wizards were able to locate a new type of magic thus creating a new Wiccan world separate from all others. It has also been theorized that this creation of the new world was orchestrated by the Adjusters. While they are believed to be myth, many scholars have speculated—_

Wait. Chris reread the last paragraph. ~_the Wizards were able to locate a new type of magic thus creating a __**new**__ Wiccan world separate from all others~ _

Holy shit. How had he missed that the first time? Why hadn't he realized? A new wiccan world? Chris shook his head. It was impossible. The Wiccan world had been around since, like, the Greek gods _not_ a new world created in 1492.

Chris frowned, a memory pushing itself forward.

"_Before North America was discovered in 1492 only the Wizarding world, the Professor's world, existed. When the colonists and immigrants came to America in the following decades they were cut off from the Wizarding world and evolved overtime into the Wiccan world."_

Chris frowned. Who had said that? Dad maybe? He could ask him. Chris struggled to pull more information forward, but the more he tried the faster it faded. The feeling remained however. He was missing something, and whatever it was, it was big.

He shut the book with an audible thud, setting it on the table. He stood up pacing back and forth across the floor of the empty classroom. Something was going on, he could feel it. Like the name on the tip of your tongue that you can't remember. It was driving him bonkers.

Making up his mind, Chris moved to the corner of the room and dropped to the floor. He closed his eyes projecting to the Manor.

Phoebe jumped in surprise. "Oh my god Chris! You scared the crap out of me. Don't do that."

Chris smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Pheebs."

Paige chuckled while Piper asked sternly, "Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

Chris checked his watch. "No," he said. "It's actually dinner time there."

"Oh, well it's nice to see you honey" Piper said continuing to scry and offering Chris a welcoming smile. Chris walked over peering at the map.

"What are you scrying for?" he asked.

Piper grimaced. "Voldemort," she answered. "He's MIA right now. We've been doing this for the last two hours."

Chris wrinkled his nose. "Well that sucks. What?" he demanded suddenly of Paige who was snickering quietly in the background.

"What are you wearing? It looks like a dress," the redhead questioned laughing outright.

Chris scowled glancing down at his robes. "School uniform," he said dully, making it clear he despised the clothes.

Piper frowned at her sister and reached out to finger Chris's shirt and loose tie. "I think it looks nice," she said.

Chris sighed pushing her hand away. "Nevermind my clothes. I take it the scrying's not working?"

Piper frowned at him but shook her head with her sisters. "No," Phoebe said. "It's not. I don't think our object has enough of a link."

"Or something is blocking it," Paige added.

Chris shrugged peering at generic black book with a hole in his mother's hand. It looked familiar actually now that Chris studied it. "What is that?" he asked.

"Tom Riddle's diary," Paige said. "Sounds like a bad movie title doesn't it?"

"_Tom Riddle's diary. He nearly returned second year through that. The memory in there was so strong—a part of his soul in fact. It's rather horrifying to think of…" _

The words echoed in Chris's mind sounding suspiciously like Harry's voice. "It's not the book," he stated. "Something's blocking the connection."

Piper nodded setting the crystal down now that she knew it was essentially useless.

"Are you sure?" Paige asked ignoring the glare Piper shot her.

Chris nodded. "I'm sure."

"Okidoki," Paige said. "Now what?" she huffed crossing her arms. They were getting nowhere with any of this.

Everyone shrugged. "Guess we go back to square one," Piper said.

"Okay…What's that?" said Paige.

Phoebe sighed walking over to the book and leaning on the podium. "Demon hunting."

Paige sighed. "Great. I'll go change."

Phoebe glanced down at what she was wearing. "Good idea. Drop me off?"

Paige nodded taking Phoebe's hand and orbing out. Piper turned around intending to copy her sisters. Wasn't really practical to go demon hunting in what she was wearing, even if she dressed more sensible than her sisters.

"You okay sweetie?" she asked Chris gently taking in his slightly puzzled expression.

"What? Oh yeah. I'm fine," Chris answered. "I came to talk to Dad actually. Need to ask him…something."

Piper nodded. "Alright. Don't forget to eat something when you go back to Hogwarts okay? And try to sleep more, you look tired."

Chris smiled. "I will Mom," he promised. Piper smiled back and headed downstairs.

"So what do you need, buddy?" Leo asked picking up the scrying stuff. Now that he was a mortal the only thing he was really useful for was being a Walking Encyclopedia of All Things Magical, as Chris liked to call it, and helping out around the house when the sisters were caught up in a particular nasty demon, or in this case Wizard, hunt.

Chris turned to his dad. "What?"

"Your question. You said you had something to ask me?" Leo reminded him.

Chris blinked. "Right um…" He frowned trying to recall what he'd wanted to ask Leo. "You know what? I forget what it was," he said with a slight chuckled. "Guess it wasn't that important."

"You sure?" Leo asked. Chris wasn't usually forgetful, but even he could have his days.

Chris mulled it over for a moment before shrugging. "If I remember I'll be back, but right now I need to go," he said glancing at his watch.

Leo nodded. "Alright. Be careful."

"Always," Chris said fading away. He opened his eyes in the empty classroom, feeling only slightly dizzy. He frowned once again attempting to remember why he'd projected back home. Oh well, guess he really shouldn't have had those six cups of coffee. It did funny things to a person. He picked up his book absently, sliding it into his bag. He'd have to remember to return it following detention later. After all there wasn't anything useful in it.

†††

"The boy's mind is strong. He will grow suspicious, more so than he is at the present."

The five cloaked figures stood around a basin, watching as the young brunette witch made his way through the corridors.

"The boy does not matter," a second one said in response to the first one. "Our only concern is to ensure the failure of our brethren's plan."

"And if we should fail?" a third spoke. "What then? The boy is essential, as are the Chosen Ones."

"We will not fail," the second one spoke again.

"The sands of time are falling. The mortals will be a ray of hope through a dark time. We cannot discard them."

"They are not part of the issue at hand."

"All things are interrelated. It is unwise to think different. Have you grown blind or do you wish not to see it?

"Interrelated or not, the boy and his companions may prove to be obstacles in an already obstructed path. We would do better to abandon them to their fate."

"And yet you forget that we have the power to control the fate of which you speak."

The first one to have spoken held up a hand for silence and the other two quickly obliged. "Whatever our decision may be, the fact is the boy grows suspicious with each piece of knowledge he obtains and his mind grows stronger with each action we take upon it. He already senses our presence, though he remains unaware to it as of yet. His ignorance will not persist for long."

"Mortals were once trusted with our knowledge. Perhaps that time has come again," the third said.

"Trusting mortals is a mistake. We learned the lesson last time. We shall not repeat that which was done before," said the second.

"So we do nothing?"

"We wait," the first whispered.

**Okay…no the mysterious people are not Avatars. In fact if someone can guess who they are I would be most surprised and amused so give it your best shot…you know you want to. :)**

**AN: I had a very hard time writing the adults in this chapter (don't worry they won't be butting in that much) so I hope I wrote that part okay. **

**Anyhow…drop me a review…one word, two, maybe a sentence? Please. I'm always eager to hear the readers thoughts…even if I sometimes act like a wall and don't reply.**

**I'll try to update with Chapter 17 asap…but with school starting again. *shrugs* Maybe I'll have more time during class. **

**Until then…Adios. **


	17. Questions, questions, questions

**Chapter Fourteen: Questions, questions, questions…**

**Three-four months! That's unacceptable! Preposterous! Please accept my deepest apologies and feel free to have at me in the review I know you will all give cause you're just that awesome. :)**

**I'm also sorry for the shortness of the chapter but hey, would you rather have a shorter chapter or a longer update time? **

**A shout out "THANK YOU" to all my reviewers, and my readers who don't review :) You're all awesome, and I hope you're enjoying the story. **

**To Mandi: You're are absolutely a hundred percent correct. :) Now the question remains…just **_**what **_**are they? **

**

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Friday of the first week at Hogwarts dawned as dreary and bleary as the days before it. Heavy clouds threatened on the horizon, and the sun broke through for only seconds at a time if at all. Rain seemed almost guaranteed and those who had tryouts for Quidditch spent their time fervently hoping they'd be spared a soaking.

Class droned on seemingly forever and the only thing that sustained Harry throughout the day was the knowledge that tonight would be his last detention with. He'd pleaded with her earlier in the week to be allowed to attend the Quidditch tryouts this evening and was brusquely turned down with the harsh statement that missing something he wanted would make the punishment all the more effective. As if slicing his hand open wasn't getting the message across.

He was still angry at the professor for not allowing him to go to the Quidditch tryouts and now he was trying valiantly to boost Ron's low confidence while bolting down a plate of food.

"You'll do great. I'm sure," Harry assured Ron for the umpteenth time around a mouthful of his dinner.

"I know. I'm just so…nervous," Ron said fidgeting. "I just wish you were going to be there, mate."

Harry patted Ron's shoulder. "You and me both Ron. See you later and good luck," he said cramming the last bite of potatoes in his mouth.

Ron nodded. "See you." He looked a tad green and Harry gave him one last encouraging pat before heading off to his doom.

He knocked on the door, waiting for the quiet "Come in" before entering.

Umbridge was sitting as usual in all her pink magnificence behind her surprisingly not pink desk with her unsurprisingly pink tea cup. Chris was as usual not yet in the room, and Harry sat down in his usual seat angling it slightly so he could see out the window.

If he squinted slightly he could just make out figures flying around the Quidditch pitch, but they were no bigger than gnats and for the life of him, he couldn't tell which one was Ron. Or Wyatt for that matter. He was pretty sure the American had said he was trying out and Harry was infinitely glad Ron at least had someone he talked to on a regular basis there. Well, someone who wasn't his twin older brothers who would no doubt tease him mercilessly.

Umbridge cleared her throat lightly indicating that Harry had sat still quite long enough. He quickly picked up the quill scratching the familiar line onto the fresh parchment ignoring the sting on the back of his hand.

_I must not tell lies._

Chris entered the room about ten minutes later. He sat down silently, ignoring Umbridge as he picked up his own quill and started his lines.

The professor set her cup of tea down delicately. "You're late again Mr. Matthews. Do you want another week of detention?" she questioned sickeningly.

Chris cocked his head at her slightly, settling his chin in his hand. "A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to*," he said, expression schooled into one of unreadable blankness.

Umbridge narrowed her eyes at him. "Do not mock me Mr. Matthews or I will do much worse than make you write lines. You'll stay an extra hour this evening as punishment for your tardiness."

"Whatever floats your boat, Ursula. Really though, anyone would think you like my company," Chris replied. "And it's kind of a lose lose situation for you don't ya think? After all _you_ have to remain here longer _and_ endure my decidedly unpleasant attitude."

Umbridge stood, making her an impressive one foot taller than when she was sitting, and made her way to Chris's table. "Perhaps," she answered softly, almost sing song like, stretching her slack mouth into a grotesque grin. "But I won't be the one carving letters into the back of my hand." She tapped the parchment meaningfully.

Chris stayed silent as Umbridge smiled sweetly at him, only eyeing her in a calculating manner Harry would have found quite unnerving had it been directed at him. The professor looked unperturbed returning to her seat as Chris started his lines again, one foot underneath him and the other bouncing lightly against the floor.

It was rather annoying actually and despite the soft, nearly undetectable, sound it made; it was distracting. Harry knew Umbridge found it infuriating too and sure enough, when he glanced at the teacher, her expression was one of increasing disapproval. Harry thought it was odd, and he actually hated himself for agreeing with the hag on something, but Chris's fidgeting was just so maddening. It literally drove him crazy. He agreed with Umbridge for Christ's sake!

Harry looked over at his fellow student, unsurprised to see him calmly writing line after line without so much as a notion of his irritating everyone else in the room. In fact, if Harry had to hazard a guess, he'd say the Slytherin was entirely unaware that he was even doing anything.

"Mr. Matthews stop that infernal racket," Umbridge finally snapped.

Chris froze lifting his gaze to the teacher. He lowered his foot completely to the floor watching Umbridge carefully to see if that was what she wanted. She didn't protest so Chris returned to his lines.

Harry breathed a slight sigh of relief and snuck a glance out the windows to the Quidditch field seeing a flying speck before returning to his lines.

_I must not tell lies._

The silence was broken only by the scratching of quills and light tapping of metal against china for the next few minutes before Chris started drumming his fingers. It wouldn't have been half as annoying except for the abnormal way Chris did it. He tapped each finger individually in an odd sort of rhythmic pattern that had no inherent meaning. Harry clenched his fist wishing he could smash Chris's hand. Once again Umbridge inexplicitly came to his rescue.

"Matthews," she said shrilly.

The drumming ceased immediately in a well rehearsed understanding that had developed the past four evenings. While Harry had said nothing more than 'good evening' and 'good night' to the professor, Chris seemed to glean a perverse sense of joy out of irritating her. Glancing over at the now quiet Chris, Harry saw him sitting with his foot flat against the floor and his hand determinedly clasped in his lap. It wasn't three minutes later when the tapping started anew.

Harry groaned inwardly. That bloody Slytherin couldn't bloody sit still for five bloody minutes, he fumed silently. He could practically hear Umbridge seething as well.

_I must not tell lies._

Harry sneaked another glance out the window, fighting to tune out Chris's racket. The person defending the goals now was terrible, missing three saves in the few seconds Harry dared to watch. Harry hoped it wasn't Ron.

_I must not tell lies._

_I must not tell lies._

The cut on the back of his hand opened beginning to bleed afresh. It stung horribly with each line he wrote, blood dripping on the parchment.

He peeked out the window again, disheartened to find the sky growing darker so he could barely make out the pitch.

_I must not tell lies._

_I must not tell lies._

_I must not tell lies._

He glanced out again seeing nothing but reflections from the room inside. Sighing he returned his attention to the parchment trying to ignore the pain from his hand as he scratched out his line over and over.

"Let's see if you've got the message, shall we?" Umbridge said sweetly not two hours later.

She reached out, stubby fingers grasping Harry's arm. The moment her clammy skin touched his, pain seared across his forehead and he got the most peculiar sensation around his navel. Almost a pulling jolt that made him want to hurl.

Harry wrenched his arm from her grip. He stared at Umbridge wide eyed cradling his cut hand close to his chest.

"Yes," Umbridge said, "hurts doesn't it?"

Harry didn't answer wondering if she meant his hand or if she knew what else he'd felt. For a split second he felt as if she had to have known and had the sudden desperate need to tell someone he trusted. Someone like Dumbledore.

"You may leave now."

He turned around stiffly grabbing his bag from the floor. Chris was regarding him curiously, a knowing look on his face. Harry brushed past him unsettled beyond belief.

Once outside he took a moment to calm himself pushing down his wild thoughts. It was irrational wasn't it? Umbridge may be awful, but she couldn't be working for Voldemort. He grimaced slightly, wrapping his still bleeding hand in his scarf. He debated about heading to the hospital wing, but trashed the idea. Doing so would only raise questions that Harry really didn't want to answer.

Instead he simply returned to the common room walking up the staircase slowly. When he entered the room he was more than a little stunned at the enthusiastic party that was in progress. Ron ran over to him, practically appearing out of nowhere babbling incoherently. After piecing together random parts, Harry managed to figure out that he'd made onto the team as the keeper.

"Oh that's brilliant Ron," Harry said mustering up a grin. He felt a small burst of joy at the thought that Ron was on the Quidditch team, but the dominating memory of the feeling Umbridge had given him quickly quashed his happiness. "Really great," he repeated.

Ron nodded empathically handing Harry a butterbeer. "Wyatt tried out for beater," he shouted to be heard over the noise. "But obviously Fred and George are still the beaters. Wyatt's a reserve though."

Harry nodded not really absorbing the words, more interested in locating Hermione. In Umbridge's office he'd felt that he should tell Dumbledore, but he was still angry at the man for ignoring him all summer and then at his hearing with the Ministry. He hadn't said one word to Harry since he'd been back at Hogwarts and Harry would be damned if he was going to go to Dumbledore first. That left Hermione to tell.

"Hey Ron, where's Hermione?" he asked tapping his friend on the shoulder to get his attention.

Ron pointed across the room to one of the sofas. "Over there I think. At least she was."

"Thanks," Harry said moving away to weave through the crowd. He spotted Hermione slumped on the sofa near the fire with a blob of yarn and sticks in her lap. He sat down shaking her shoulder slightly.

Hermione jumped startled. "Hey Harry, how was detention? Did you hear Ron made it on the team? I can't say I'm surprised. He is a rather good keeper."

Harry silenced her with a wave of his hands. "Yes, yes and it's great but listen," he said telling her everything about what had happened in detention and up until then.

†††

Chris scratched his line out on to the parchment for what felt like the millionth time. He was pretty sure he could probably write it in his sleep now. His hand stung painfully as he discretely switched the quill over to his left hand again. He'd figured out early on that the quill Umbridge had given him etched the words written with it into the hand not being used to write. Since Chris was ambidextrous he'd been switching the hand he'd write with so as to reduce the clarity of the cuts . So far Umbridge hadn't seemed to notice. He wrote his line quietly, no longer even wincing at the stinging in his hands. He'd always had a high tolerance for pain while Wyatt was prone to complaining.

Umbridge sat behind her desk still sipping delicately at her cup of tea and writing up her ridiculous detention letters for every student who looked at her wrong.

Chris pursed his lips before setting his quill down. "Professor?" he started in a diplomatic tone. "I was wondering if I may ask you a question?"

Umbridge eyed him suspiciously and lowered her cup. "Perhaps," she said. "What is it?"

Chris smiled. "Well, I was just curious as to why the Ministry sent you here? You see my family isn't rather fond of Dumbledore ourselves and I think that maybe, despite our, ah, issues, we may share some common ground."

Umbridge frowned at him. "Matthews, if this is some sort of new game you think you can run with here—"

Chris widened his eyes in an expression of sincerity. "No, Heavens above, no. Like I said. I'm just curious."

Umbridge regarded him a moment more and picked her tea cup back up. "Continue your lines Mr. Matthews."

"But Professor—"

"Lines."

Chris scowled. "Professor, I'd like for you to answer my question."

Umbridge's gaze shot back to him at his words. "Mr. Matthews," she began her tone haughty with distain, "have you learned nothing from your detentions?"

Chris stood walking to the front of Umbridge's desk. He placed both hands on the wood leaning forward. "Dolores," he said meeting her gaze. He reached out pressing his consciousness against hers. It took some effort but her mind faltered under the force, bending to his will. "Answer the question."

Umbridge blinked slowly. "What question?" she asked.

"_Why_ are you here?" Chris repeated gritting his teeth to keep his control.

Umbridge blinked again. "Cornelius sent me."

Chris gripped the edge of the desk not breaking eye contact. "I know that. Now why did he send you?"

"He's afraid of Dumbledore," she replied breathlessly.

Chris sighed. God he hated how stupid people seemed to be when he used his telepathy to dominate their conscience. "Why?"

"He thinks Dumbledore is a threat."

"A threat?" Chris asked mildly surprised. "He thinks Dumbledore is a threat to him? What about Voldemort? Or the Death Eaters?"

Umbridge blinked at him.

Chris huffed. "Why is Dumbledore a threat?" he asked tiredly.

"He's going to try and undermine Cornelius's position. He wants the Ministry for himself," Umbridge explained in monotone.

Chris arched his eyebrows. Say what? he thought. "What about Voldemort?"

"He's not back," Umbridge said. "It's just a ploy by Dumbledore to undermine Cornelius's power, to get to the Ministry."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Huh." Chris scratched his chin thoughtfully. "But why are you _here_? How does making you a teacher help Fudge?"

"Cornelius's is going to make me the High Inquisitor. That will allow me to reform the school and monitor Dumbledore."

Chris nodded. This wasn't good, but there was nothing he could do about it except pass the information on to the headmaster. His head throbbed painfully reminding him to hurry up. "Do you know who I am?" he asked moving on to the next subject he needed answers for.

Umbridge looked slightly confused. "You are Christopher Matthews. A fifth year Slytherin."

Chris bit his lip. "Have you met me before?"

"No."

"Have you ever attacked me?"

"No."

"Have you ever cast one of the Unforgivable Curses?"

"Yes."

"Which one and on who?"

"All of them on many."

Chris's eyes widened as he unconsciously lent back some. She was undoubtedly more dangerous than he'd first assumed. He leaned forward again gazing directly into Umbridge's eyes. "You'll forget this conversation. It never happened; I never spoke of this with you. In three seconds you will close your eyes and when you open your eyes you'll have no recollection of this conversation." He watched her pupils dilate as he spoke indicating her reception of his wishes. Sighing he moved back to his seat dropping his head to the surface. He crossed his arms burying his head in the crook of his elbow.

Umbridge was silent a moment before the clink of metal against china signaled her return to conscience thought. "Matthews what are you doing?" she demanded her shrill voice slicing through Chris's head painfully.

"Ignoring you," Chris grumbled into his arm.

Apparently Umbridge hadn't heard his comment as she continued to talk as if he hadn't insulted her. "Well dear, look at the time. Let's have a look at your hand shall we?" She snatched Chris's hand before he could react, pulling it forward for inspection. "Tsk, tsk. Not as deep as I'd like, but I have a feeling you'll be back before long. You're free to go now."

Chris pulled his hand from her clammy grasp, picking up his bag and backing from the room. Once outside he leaned against the wall rubbing wearily at his temples. His brain throbbed angrily, feeling coiled and cranky.

Slinging his bag across his shoulder, Chris made his way to the dungeons, dropping the book off at the library on his way. Catching the sound of voices outside the door to Snape's office he stopped curiosity overruling his better manners. He crouched down near the slab of wood, cocking his head slightly to hear better.

"You believe the boy may have a connection?" the unmistakable voice of Severus Snape asked.

"Yes. In fact I believe it may be the only plausible explanation." That voice was Dumbledore's no doubt. Chris shifted leaning closer to the door.

"What do you intend to do about it?" Snape said. There were several clangs of something hitting a metal surface.

"Nothing. For now the boy is safer kept in the dark. If the situation so requires he will be informed adequately. Until then we will speak nothing of it," Dumbledore said. "Right now he is more secure without knowledge of a possible connection between the two of them."

Snape murmured an agreement.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I'll take my leave now Severus. Just bear in mind what I told you."

"Of course headmaster."

Chris scuttled backwards towards a classroom and quickly slipped through the wall just as Snape's door creaked open. The stone muffled the sounds, but Chris could detect footsteps tracing the path he'd just taken minus the trip through the wall. He moved across the classroom sliding into another hallway and making his way back to the hall for the common room.

He entered the Slytherin room thankful for the dim light as he made his way discreetly to his dormitory. He spotted Draco and his two lug nuts of friends near the fire and ducked his head as he passed them. Draco was a piece of work, Chris was discovering. A rather nasty piece though he did possess a small slice of silver lining.

Chris skipped up the stairs dropping his bag next to his bed and immediately digging out his bottle of Tylenol. He swallowed three dry before falling face first on the bed. He kicked his shoes off tiredly listening to them thump heavily to the floor.

He sighed mentally reviewing the first week in his head. Bad news. Voldemort was on the move. Recruiting more wizards and possibly demons (which was rather worrisome) to his cause. Good news. Harry was in more danger than ever, but right now he was the least concern since he was in the most protected (minus Magic School and Up There) place on the planet, and he was an active charge of the most powerful magical being alive, Wyatt, and Chris. Bad news. Fudge (the guy who was _supposed _to be protecting the wizard community) had planted a conniving little bitch of a spy at Hogwarts to monitor Dumbledore under the false (not to mention ridiculous) belief that Dumbledore wanted to steal Fudge's position and to reform the school which would ultimately weaken the protectiveness of the haven and practically roll out the welcome mat for Voldemort and his Death Feeders. Bad news. Chris was no closer to discovering the meaning or origin of the strange dreams he was having, nor had he discovered anything on the origins of the Wiccan and Wizarding worlds. He was at an impasse. Good news. The week was over and he'd survived his detentions with Umbridge without Wy finding out. Bad news. He was pretty sure he'd be back in them within a week.

Chris groaned and rolled over. Was it just him, or did the bad news seem to outweigh the good? And that was barely half of it. The dreams were worsening the longer he was at Hogwarts and the closer they got to November. Malfoy was still watching him like a falcon with steely grey eyes, and trying to engage him in a "friendly acquaintanceship" despite his affiliations with the Gryffindor crowd and Chris was no closer as to knowing why.

A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts. Chris jumped slightly surprised to realize he'd been dozing off. Malfoy pushed the door open, gaze landing on Chris instantly.

"Matthews," he said sharply inclining his head out the door. "Headmaster want to see you in his office."

Chris frowned rolling off the bed and tugging his shoes back on. He raised a questioning eyebrow to Draco as he moved past him.

Draco shrugged. "Don't ask me. I don't know what you did."

"I didn't do anything," Chris replied bluntly, wondering just what the hell Dumbledore could want and why he needed it right now.

"Right. Dumbly just wants to have tea," Malfoy scoffed.

Chris smirked. "What's the matter? Jealous?"

Malfoy laughed mockingly his expression twisting into a sneer. "Of what? The old man having tea with the American?"

"You're right. No need to be jealous unless it's coffee," Chris admitted heading out of the common room. "God I hope he has coffee," he muttered.

†††

Dumbledore's office always looked the same Chris decided. The Headmaster behind the huge desk, the table of All Silver Things Wacky, the unsettling ring of portraits that pretended to sleep but watched your every move, and the beautiful Phoenix perched to the right of the door.

Tonight Dumbledore was still behind his desk, but Wyatt was sitting in a chair in front of him. They both turned to look as Chris entered.

"Ah, my message reached you I trust?" Dumbledore asked.

Chris nodded too tired to reply sarcastically that he wouldn't be here if it hadn't. He sank into a plush chair waiting for Dumbledore to start talking.

The professor cleared his throat lightly and clasped his hands on the desk. "I have recently decided there is a matter in question that should come to your attention due to your particular part in this."

Chris raised his eyebrows. Dumbledore was beating around a bush. Just spit it out, Chris thought.

"I trust both of you are aware of what is called a psychic link? In fact I believe the two of you share one, no?"

Chris glanced at Wyatt. He didn't recall anyone telling Dumbledore this, but then again Leo could have told the professor anything.

"Maybe," Wyatt answered. "Why?"

Dumbledore smiled. "In the case of your link, it was formed through love. Other links can be established differently. Perhaps through hate and the attempt to kill someone."

There was that beaten bush again. Chris frowned recalling the short conversation he'd overheard earlier between Snape and the Headmaster. Well it made sense now.

"You think Harry has a link with Voldemort," he stated. Wyatt looked at him puzzled and Dumbledore smiled.

"Yes. That is exactly what I think. I believe that in trying to kill Harry, Voldemort unwittingly transferred some of his powers and linked them psychically."

Chris frowned. This was far from good news; in fact, it classified as very bad news. A psychic link allowed two people to connect through the mind and if needed, or intended, impress their own agendas on whoever they were connected to. Chris didn't have to worry about Wyatt doing it to him, not that Chris was sure Wyatt even could as it took superior mental will, and Wyatt didn't have to worry about Chris doing it to him, even though he could, because Chris never would. The nature of their relationship as brothers practically forbade it.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case with Voldemort and Harry. Were Voldemort to discover the link, Chris knew the Dark Lord wouldn't hesitate to use it to its full advantage. And he held no doubt Voldemort was far superior to Harry in mental will power.

"What are you going to do about it?" Chris asked quietly. Worry gnawed at him unprecedented. There was no way of knowing if Voldemort would find the link and if he did whether or not he would be able to use it.

Dumbledore laced his fingers meeting Chris's eye solidly. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing for now."

Wyatt frowned. "Then what was the point of telling us?"

"Simply to make you aware."

Chris nodded. "Ahuh." Dumbledore was…manipulative. He wasn't scheming. He wasn't deceiving. But he was manipulative. Chris frowned regarding the professor shrewdly. The question was what was he manipulating by telling him and Wyatt about the possible link and why.

Dumbledore smiled widely. "Lemon drop?" he offered suddenly holding out a bowl. He produced his wand with a flourish. "And tea perhaps?"

Chris blinked a little thrown with the turn of events from serious psychic link talk to tea. "Uh…I think we'll just head back to our common rooms."

The professor just nodded eyes twinkling unnervingly behind half-moon spectacles. "Indeed. You look like you could use a good night's rest Christopher. Do enjoy the rest of the evening, you two, and don't let the brass candlesticks bite."

Wyatt looked at Dumbledore puzzled a question on his lips his expression morphing into startled surprise as Chris grabbed his elbow steering him to the door. "Oh we won't Professor, don't worry. Enjoy your evening."

Chris ushered Wyatt out the door pulling it shut behind him. He stood in silence pondering quietly before striding down the short hall to the stairs. Wyatt dogged his steps a quiet intensity thrumming from him.

"What?" Chris asked falling into step with his brother.

Wyatt pursed his lips phrasing he question from his jumbling thoughts. "I just…I don't see _why _he told us." Chris frowned nodding slightly. Wyatt regarded him for a minute before cocking and eyebrow and asking. "Do _you_?"

Chris scowled at him. "Yes Wyatt. I do. Cause I know everything."

Wyatt simply stared at him with an expression that clearly showed his belief that Chris did, in fact, know everything. "We've been over this countless times little brother. You—brain. Me—brawn."

The brunette's scowl deepened. "You're not stupid," he said dully, "not by any stretch of the imagination no matter how many times I call you an _loco imbécil_."

Wyatt grinned. "You just complimented me. Are you feelin' okay? Ill? Feverish? Maybe I should take you to the infirmary."

Chris shook his head. "No, I'm fine," he murmured absentmindedly peering intently at the floor while they walked. Wyatt's grin faded. Chris seemed distracted and distant. He also had his block up for their psychic link. That more than anything worried Wyatt. Chris had perfected the art of restraining the flow of his thoughts and emotions through the bond without the need to block it. The only time he blocked it was when he was extremely preoccupied or troubled about something.

"You sure you're okay, bro?" Wyatt asked as the two reached the Grand Staircase.

"Yeah. Peachy," was the short reply he got as Chris started down the stairs. Wyatt pursed his lips not believing it for a second but letting it slide for the night.

"Good night Chris," he called down the steps.

"Night Wy." Wyatt sighed trudging upstairs internally cursing whoever decided the Gryffindors should have to walk up to the seventh floor and whoever decided moving stairs would be a good idea. Because they just simply weren't.

†††

The trio sat in the quiet study hall studiously working, or at least pretending to on Harry's part, their homework from the first week of school. It was midday Saturday and the majority of the fifth years were inside struggling through the massive workload being dumped upon them.

Hermione was graciously helping Ron with the History essay while Harry inconspicuously spied on the two new American students sitting at the table across from them. No, not spying. That was such a harsh word. More like "curiously watching" or "intently studying". Alright he was spying.

Both American's had their books on the table in front of them and quills poised above parchment with several lines written on it, but Harry had seen neither brother write a single thing or even flip a page in their book for the past half hour. In fact, neither brother had done anything, aside from an occasional murmured word from Wyatt, except stare at the one page in their book. Every once in a while Chris would tap his book thoughtfully and glance up at Wyatt before immediately lowering his gaze back to what he was supposedly working on.

"How far have you gotten Harry?" Hermione asked. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly seeing no more words on Harry's parchment than what had been there that last time she checked. "What have you been doing for the past half hour?"

Harry shrugged lightly only glancing at her before directing his gaze back at the Matthews. "There's something off about them Hermione."

"Off about who?" she asked following Harry's stare. "The Matthews? Harry I don't think this is the time to debate the oddities of people from a different culture. You should be focusing on the Borgarth Campaign."

"I don't care about the Borgarth Campaign," Harry replied. "That was a thousand years ago, this is here and now."

Hermione sighed. "There's nothing wrong with Chris and Wyatt, Harry. Transfer students, especially those from differing continents, are extensively screened and tested before being allowed to attend another Wizarding school. They wouldn't be here if Dumbledore didn't trust them."

"How can we be sure Hermione?" Harry asked pitching he voice lower so as not to attract unwanted attention. "How can Dumbledore be sure?"

"Yeah 'Mione," Ron said pitching in, "after all, one of them is in Slytherin."

"Ronald, if Dumbledore kicked out all the Slytherin students—"

"He'd be doing us a favor," Ron interrupted.

Hermione scowled. "No. He'd be expelling a good portion of the best students at Hogwarts. Not all of them are like Malfoy or his lackeys."

Harry snorted. "No but most of them are."

Hermione regarded him closely. "Perhaps. But that doesn't mean they all are. It doesn't mean Chris is. Now finish your homework or you'll regret it later."

†††

_I still want to know why Dumbledore told us what he did last night. I mean why tell us about a __**possible**__ link if he didn't want to do anything about it? _Wyatt asked.

"_I told you Wy. I don't know."_ Chris stared at his book not seeing the page as he and his brother discussed.

_You've been quiet lately. What are you thinking about?_

"_I don't know."_

_You don't know what you're thinking? _Wyatt said amusement clear in his tone.

"_Of course I know what I'm thinking. I'm just not sure that it makes sense," _Chris replied tersely.

_Oh. Well what is it?_

Chris sighed. _"The more I think about it, the more I see similarities between Harry and Voldemort. And I'm not sure about what it means." _

Wyatt frowned. _Similarities between Harry and Voldemort?_

"_Yeah. They're both Parselmouths, orphaned, mistreated by muggle parents, misunderstood and looked up to, both subject to Dumbledore's manipulations, both powerful wizards." _

_And how do you know all that?_

"_I did my homework, Wyatt, if that's what you mean." _

_Well, what do you think it means?_

"_I don't know, Wy, I don't know. It could mean nothing."_

Wyatt shrugged. _Could be coincidence. _

"_Do you really think it's all coincidence?" _

_Not really. _

"_Yeah, I didn't think so. We're not that lucky." _

The question was what _did _it mean? What did any of it mean? Croatoan? Voldemort's mysterious actions? Dumbledore's meddling? Harry's connections with the Voldemort? Umbridge's role at Hogwarts? The mysterious visions he'd been having and the reoccuring nightmares? What was Wyatt's part in all this? For that matter what was his? If the Elder's words were true and there was a reason for everything, then what was the reason for this?

Chris wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

* * *

**THE END! No I'm kidding. Not the end…not even close. **

**I apologize again for the update time… I know I'm terribly slow. I'll try, try, try to update faster. After all Christmas break is nigh upon us. *Sigh* **

**Oh, please ignore any mistakes in this chapter. They're all my fault as I was too tired to proof read this and felt too guilty having it written but not uploaded for you guys. So I just skimmed an probably missed a whole bunch of mistakes. Oh well. **

****That, for anyone who didn't know, is a direct quote from one of the absolute best movies of all time—Lord of the Rings. And I had to credit it out of sheer awesomeness. Gandalf says this in The Fellowship of the Ring when Frodo accuses him of being late. If you've read My Girlfriend's a What! then you know that my Chris is a bit of a LotR fanatic so I pictured his quoting this. I didn't 'blatantly steal' the line or anything. It just fit so well with how I pictured Chris responding there. :) **

**For any Series of Unfortunate Event readers: I'll try to update soon. Really. :)**

**Alright, Until next time, which hopefully isn't too long…Adios. **


	18. All Is Not Well In Elder Land

**Okay...I'm not dead...*laughs nervously* scum of the universe for taking so long...maybe. Heh...You can all throw rotten cyber fruit at me if you want...**

**So I do sincerly apologize for taking so, so, so, so freaking long but here at long last it is. And hopefully the next chapter won't take me so long. :)  
Also, I had issues with uploading this chapter so thank you so much ch4rm3ds3c0nds for saving my life...the sad thing is I actually would (metaphorically) die if I couldn't vent my life's frustrations and creativity here...is that sad? Oh sorry I'm rambling, my apologies. **

**A HUGE Thank You to all of my reviewers and readers out there for, well, reviewing, reading, and generally putting up with me and my updates or lack there of. **

**Pessimystic: First off thanks for reviewing. Second, after reading your review I was baffled and so read through a couple of chapters picking out Chris's dialouge (you did mean dialouge? *shrug*). Though I can't truthfully say I see what you mean, I did try to be a little more aware of my wording for Chris in this chapter. Let me know if I succeeded or failed terribly...I tried...**

**Oh...just to point out again...Me and Spanish (despite attempts) don't get along very well and I apologize if I butchered it...**

**Hope you all enjoy**

**AN: Fair warning: If it gets confusing in Chris's POV here...it's supposed to be. Well not confusing per se...just it's supposed to be the way it is. It may not be confusing at all...just sayin'**

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**Chapter Fifteen: ****All's Not Well In Elder Land**

"He's going to know Merdoc," Teresa said bluntly eyeing her senior Elder with slight contempt.

"Of course he'll know, or at least he'll think he does. He is a Halliwell after all," Merdoc replied just as blunt. "The whole lot of them like to believe they know everything. This is precisely the reason I want you to give it to him. He will be less suspicious of you."

Teresa sighed lowering her eyes to the small vial Merdoc held out to her. Against Christopher's wishes she had spoken to the older Elder about Chris's possible growing omniscient powers and his dreams. She hadn't foreseen the alarm it would cause in Merdoc nor the actions he would take against it. The dreams were hurting Christopher—mentally and emotionally—whether the stubborn boy admitted it or not and her attempt to seek help had only worsened the situation.

Teresa reached out taking the vial slowly. "I…I can't give him this," she said hesitantly. She shook her head hopelessly. "I can't."

Merdoc regarded her coldly. "You can and you will. It is for the safety of many, Teresa. Do it this way or someone else will do it more harshly."

Teresa swallowed. Chris had asked her not to speak with anyone. Perhaps he had known what the others would think; and then she had gone and betrayed his confidence. Chris's trust was a fragile thing, and she'd gone against it. She swallowed again finding a reservoir of defiance.

"You can't do this to him. Being an Elder is part of his soul, he was born with it. You can't strip his Grace and make him _fall_. He's a _child_."

"All the more reason to do it now," Merdoc replied icily. "Before he gains even more power. The Twice-Blessed was bad enough; still is. But a half Elder child…who knows what he will be capable of."

Teresa shook her head. "The Twice-Blessed is not to be feared," she began earnestly. "He is prophesized, a gift to the followers of Good—"

"Yes," Merdoc interrupted indifferently. "Yes, all true and for that reason only the Twice-Blessed is left marginally alone. Correct me if I am wrong however, but there is no prophecy about a half-Elder child is there?"

Teresa closed her eyes and shook her head. "No," she whispered.

Merdoc smiled at her smugly. "I thought as much."

"But don't you see?" Teresa asked trying to renew her argument. "Chris could be something amazing, something novel, something—"

"Dangerous?" Merdoc put in frowning and cutting her off. "Just make sure he gets the potion." He turned to leave halting at Teresa's next words.

"He won't take it. He'll know."

Merdoc sighed gustily and faced the woman. "Yes he will. But you'll make sure he takes it. Otherwise I will not be the only Elder who knows what you told me and I will personally see to it that the Council decides to forcibly make the boy fall which will be much, much worse for him. Do your little pet witch a favor and strip his Grace the easy way."

His cold blue eyes bored into hers a moment before she gave a slight nearly imperceptible nod. Merdoc inclined his head and left, robes sweeping around him as he strode through the door. Teresa looked down at the vial in her hand.

"Lo siento mucho Cristóbal," she whispered softly to the air almost like a prayer, hand clenched around the vial.

Teresa followed Merdoc's path out of the chamber, instinctively heading to the Archives. Among the millions of tomes and scrolls she felt herself calming, the heart wrenching guilt becoming slightly more manageable. She took Merdoc's threat to heart knowing all too well he could carry it out, and the thought of Chris forcibly being made to fall terrified her.

Falling for an Elder at all, especially the young ones, was told to be nearly unbearable agony. If an Elder chose to fall, like Leo, the reason for the falling usually negated the pain. It was a free will choice to give up their Grace. But being made to fall, to have one's Grace compulsorily torn away, it was pure agony. And she had no idea of the effect it would have on Chris, someone whose Grace was intricately entangled within his being and soul. An average Elder attained his Grace when granted their position; Chris was born with his. To strip it away now would be like taking a piece of his soul, something Teresa wasn't even sure was possible. For all she knew the potion could have no effect on Chris whatsoever. Or it could kill him.

"Teresa."

The Elder jumped, heart leaping to her throat as she spun around. Chris. She made a show of huffing loudly at the young Halliwell in front of her. "Cristóbal. I've told you _not _to do that."

She swallowed heavily at the sight of the boy, hand clenching around the small glass vial in her robe and guilt welling up inside her. She quickly established her mental shields, blocking off both her thoughts and emotions. Unable to meet his eyes Teresa dropped her gaze to the books before her.

Chris simply shrugged. "Since when do I ever do as I'm told," he quipped. His humor faded quickly as he regarded Teresa seriously. "I need you to get me some documents from the Archives."

Teresa sighed and shook her head happy to fall back on a familiar argument. "I've told you countless times before, I cannot. You as a mortal are not allowed to read their contents." She picked up the large tomes she had gathered to read, though she'd been unable to focus, moving down through the bookshelves. Chris followed her like a persistent hound dog.

"Teresa," he started in the most diplomatic tone he could manage despite his mounting frustration. "Doesn't the fact that I'm half-Elder count for anything up here?"

The Spaniard frowned at him reaching a closed door to one of the many sections within the Archive Hall. Yes, she thought, it counts for so much but nothing good for you. She averted her gaze from him once again.

"No," she said shortly.

"Well why not?" he demanded as she turned the doorknob.

"I thought you were intelligent Cristóbal. There are many reasons as to why not." Chris reached forward shutting the door and holding it closed. He arched his eyebrows at Teresa when she glared at him. "I don't have time for you right now."

Chris just shrugged. "Make time."

"There are things I need to do. Leave," Teresa replied pulling fruitlessly at the door. She wondered if Merdoc knew Chris was here. Wondered if Merdoc would know if she gave Chris the potion or not.

"Well ignore them for five minutes," Chris snapped, "and answer my questions."

Teresa sighed, shoulders slumping slightly under her robes in defeat. "Sometimes I forget you're a Halliwell." She shook her head slightly. "You want to know why you like everyone, or perhaps more than everyone, are forbidden to read documents from the Archives?"

Chris seemed to resist the urge to snap at her again. "That's what I asked," he said bluntly instead.

"You're a ticking time bomb Christopher. That's why."

Chris furrowed his eyebrows. "And by that you mean…what exactly?"

"I mean you're a being of conflicting propensities," Teresa said. "You more than so than non-magical beings or half-whitelighters even. Elders are by nature passive beings devoted to preserving the Grand Design and eternal Balance. Witches are the complete opposite, soldiers, active participants in the war between Good and Evil. In you, the two natures are constantly warring against one another. You feel it don't you? The constant struggling between your two instincts? That is the prevailing reason why Elders and Witches are forbidden to consummate their love for one another. Because it creates someone like you; part of all and all of nothing. Something completely new in so far as we have no idea what to expect from you."

"But…what does this have to do with the Archives?" Chris asked puzzled.

"Protection. You're unpredictable. All of humanity. To impart the knowledge contained within the pages to a mortal or especially a half-mortal, the results could be disastrous."

Chris still looked slightly confused as he dropped his hand from the door. Teresa pulled it open immediately rushing into the room wanting to leave Chris behind. It didn't work as she knew it wouldn't. The boy followed her to a nearby table.

"Look, I already told you that you can read nothing in the Archives that I don't give to you specifically and I can give you nothing that you want. Start looking outside the Archives and quit coming back to base one," Teresa said shrugging. "I can't help you with this." I'm not sure I can help you at all, she thought sadly. She looked up meeting finally Chris's gaze.

He was staring at her critically and suddenly Teresa got the feeling that he knew. Somehow, maybe, he knew everything.

Chris nodded slowly. "All right. I'll just go then." He turned around to leave, and Teresa sighed glancing upwards. Merdoc met her eyes coldly raising his eyebrow ever so slightly and inclining his head towards Chris.

Teresa bit her lip and closed her eyes. Que Dios me ayude. "Chris, espera," she called to his retreating back. "I have something for you."

Chris came back unhurriedly, looking at her intently. "What?"

The Elder inhaled softly and pulled out the vial. "I found something," she said, "for your dreams. Just drink it and they should stop." She held out the potion a little perturbed at how easily she had been able to lie to Chris, even though it wasn't a complete lie she supposed. Then again wasn't omitting information a lie as well? She made sure to keep up her mental shields, not wanting him to be suspicious.

Chris frowned taking the proffered vial. "You're sure?" he asked, his startling green eyes searching her own. She nodded.

"Positive." That wasn't a lie was it? The potion would stop the dreams…as long as they were being cause by his Elder heritage. She wasn't completely sure they were.

He nodded slipping the potion into his pocket. "Thanks."

Teresa forced herself to nod. "Of course."

Chris nodded again regarding Teresa with an unreadable look. "Are you okay?" he asked suddenly.

Teresa blinked. Was she okay? No. No she wasn't. "Yes, Christopher. I am well." She worded her statement carefully, because, physically, she was perfectly well.

The boy slipped his hands into his pockets still staring at her and rocking back on his heels. "If you're sure." He dipped his head as if in thought and shrugged. "Thanks again, you know for the potion. I'll see you." He took a step back moving to leave.

Teresa felt guilt sliver up her spine like a poison gripping her heart angrily. She bit her lip and glanced up quickly to see that Merdoc was gone.

"Chris," she whispered urgently.

He turned back once again looking at her questioningly.

"The potion," she continued, "it—" She broke off quickly as orbs formed beside her forming into Merdoc. She swallowed convulsively finishing her statement with seeming innocence. "It needs to be taking before bed. All of it at once."

Merdoc shot a glare at her before smiling welcomingly at Chris. "Pardon my interruption Christopher, but I need to borrow Teresa for a while."

"Sure," Chris said, "I was just leaving. Thanks again." He leaned forward on the table giving her a mock salute and a brief smirk before leaving.

Teresa watched him walk out the door feeling an immense amount of self loathing settle on her for what she'd done. She glanced down at the table and her breath caught in surprise before she smiled.

Merdoc too was smiling, though for a very different reason. "There now Teresa, was that so hard?"

She managed to smothered her smile and shake her head. "No," she said.

The other Elder looked at her. "In time you will come to understand that you did what was for the best."

Teresa met his gaze without protest. "I hope I don't," she answered truthfully. Merdoc frowned but orbed away leaving her alone in the Archive chamber. She pushed one of the books on the table aside and picked up the innocent looking potion vial.

"Él es demasiado inteligente para su propio bien," she said fondly. "I taught him well."

†††

"Not now Hermione," Harry moaned as the trio traipsed across the grounds. "I'll do it later."

Hermione huffed loudly. "It's Sunday afternoon Harry, there isn't going to _be_ a later."

It was indeed Sunday afternoon, _and_ the first half decent day since Hogwarts had started. The ground was slightly mushy from all the rain, the air quite damp, but the wind was only slightly chilling and the sun shining brightly.

"Sure there will be 'Mione," Ron said. "It's called Sunday _evening_." Hermione narrowed her eyes, and Harry fervently hoped the two wouldn't start arguing again. As it was she merely "hmmed" and turned away. Ron looked at Harry and rolled his eyes.

Harry returned the gesture as Hermione was proving to be unnecessarily grouchy today. He had to wonder how late she had stayed up last night finishing her own homework and reading that book of hers.

The three cut across the grass heading to their favorite spot by the lake. Harry slowed to a halt, Hermione and Ron doing the same, as he came across two students occupying the spot they usually did. Two American students to be specific.

Wyatt was sitting Indian style elbows propped on his knees talking animatedly for a few sentences before falling silent. He'd sit still a moment nod then speak again apparently replying to something no one else heard. Chris was sprawled on the grass, feet nearer Wyatt than his head, his face shrouded in the shadow of his jacket hood and his hands buried deep in the pockets. As far as Harry could tell, Chris looked like he was sleeping.

Overcoming the momentary startled feeling of someone in their spot, Harry grinned plopping down next to the blonde. Wyatt jumped slightly; eating his next words he'd been saying to midair, and sputtered out a greeting.

"Hello Wyatt," Harry said not missing the furtive glance Wyatt sent at Chris. He filed it away for future reviewing. Chris cracked open an eye slightly as Hermione sat down on his left, proving that he was not sleeping despite appearances. Ron plopped down in front of Harry.

"Hey guys. Whatcha up to?" Wyatt said, recovering his composure and smiling. Chris merely closed his eyes again ignoring the others.

Ron shrugged. "Nothing. We're doing nothing as we enjoy this fine day."

"And that includes avoiding homework," Hermione muttered darkly.

Wyatt smirked, turning to Harry. "She harpin' on you guys or somethin'? Didn't get your work all done?"

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "No can't say I did."

"Yeah, and Mione's been on our case all morning," Ron added.

Wyatt shrugged facing Hermione again. "Well I can join their ranks. Didn't finish mine either. You can have Chris though. I'm sure he'd love to yell at us three slackers."

Hermione frowned. "Haha. Amusing."

"Yeah Wy, that was lame," Chris said softly. "But don't worry, Boesher. We can take them."

Wyatt chuckled shaking his head. Ron scowled shoving Chris's foot with his hand. "What did you call her?" he demanded. Hermione's frown deepened. She leaned forward peeking under Chris's hood to see his face.

Chris picked his head up slightly cracking open an eye. "Huh?"

"What did you call her?"

The brunette blinked, raising an eyebrow. "You mean Boesher?" he asked puzzled.

"Yes. Boesher?" Hermione repeated. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, it's an old German surname meaning 'one with bushy hair'," Chris said pulling one hand out his pocket to wave dismissively.

Harry bit his lip half torn between laughing at Hermione's indignant expression and Chris's audacity to call her that, and defending his friend as he knew she was sensitive of her hair size. Fortunately Wyatt saved him from the trouble of deciding.

"Don't take it personally Hermione. He gives everyone nicknames…and most of the time they seem degrading."

"Well put King Arthur," Chris muttered sitting up and ignoring Hermione's displeased expression. "But I don't give _everyone_ nicknames."

"Really?" Wyatt replied looking unconvinced. "You call Dumbledore Gandalf, Snape Dracula, Trelawney Treloony, Umbridge the Umbitch—"

Chris smirked. "Yeah I need something more creative for her. Umbitch isn't near expressive enough."

"He calls me Wonder Boy," Harry put in picking at a blade of grass.

Chris started to reply but stopped, rising fluidly to his feet instead to meet an oncoming group of Slytherins. "I'll see ya around," he said distractedly heading to meet Malfoy.

Harry frowned watching Malfoy begin to talk animatedly while Chris nodded, the group heading back to the castle. He glanced at Wyatt surprised to see an expression that mirrored his own adorning the blonde's features.

"Why does he talk to him?" Harry asked. All the times he'd seen Chris with the other Slytherins he never seemed particularly happy. Then again, he was slowly realizing that the brunette American never seemed particularly happy. Not that he seemed perpetually depressed or anything; he was just never openly flamboyant with his feelings like Wyatt sometimes was.

"Huh?" Wyatt grunted, narrowed eyes still trained on the shrinking figures.

"Your brother. Why does he talk to Malfoy? He doesn't seem to like him or anything."

"Oh. Um well, uh, Chris, he always has, uh, reasons for doing things he does. Even if they're dumb reasons sometimes," Wyatt said shrugging. "Plus he claims Malfoy's not that bad once you get to know the guy."

Ron snorted. "Ha! As if. Once again I rest my case that your brother is weird."

Wyatt chuckled. "You're tellin' me. Chris is batshit crazy sometimes."

Harry laughed with the others, but noticed the slight undertone of annoyance in Wyatt's voice. Judging from that and the look Wyatt had sent the Slytherins Harry guess he wasn't happy Chris was befriending Malfoy. The question being was it because Malfoy was a Slytherin, because Malfoy was a git and Wyatt was protective of his sibling, or something completely different?

†††

"So I just kick off the ground and this stick will levitate?" Chris said doubtfully eyeing the sleek black broomstick resting against Draco's shoulder. There was no way that thing would fly. None. He'd just land on his face in the dirt, which would just make his day _so much better. _He'd been having a _fantastic _day so far, what with his trip up to see Teresa and finding that the Elders were plotting against him (again). As such he wasn't all that keen about flying, since he was pretty sure it wouldn't end well. He was feeling calmer around Draco though, which was weird all things considered. But Draco seemed to have that effect; like the soothing presence of an acquaintance that provided a distraction from the qualms plaguing Chris's mind. He'd noticed that, odd as it was, while he didn't particularly enjoy the blond aristocrat's company, a part of him didn't particularly mind it either.

Draco rolled his eyes shoving the broom into Chris's hand. "Yes. I swear Matthews; you're the stupidest wizard I've ever met."

Chris smirked cocking his head to the side and allowing Draco's aura of distraction to envelope him. "I think you're forgetting Crabbe and Goyle then. ''Cause I am definitely smarter than those two combined."

The blonde huffed conceding to the point. "You're absolutely right. Actually I had forgotten them. I'm sad to say even some of the Gryffindorks would be classified as smarter than them."

"Only some?" Chris said arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

Draco scowled not deigning to answer as he stalked to the center of the Quidditch field. Chris rolled his eyes and followed looking at the field curiously. It resembled a football field to a certain degree, the differences being the three large posts at each end with hoops on the top and the odd spectator seating in massive towers.

Once they reached the middle, stopping next to a large wooden chest, Draco spun around suddenly. "What position do you want to play?"

"Uh. How the Hell should I know? This was your 'bloody brilliant' idea remember?" Chris said adding a faux accent on 'bloody brilliant'. He hadn't planned on playing any sport originally, but had relented under Draco's persuasion.

The other boy sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Once again we're back to my earlier point. Stupidest wizard."

Chris shrugged. "Hey, can't help that I went back for seconds at the beauty counter and missed my full dose of intelligence. What does it matter anyway? Pretty people make it further in life."

Draco frowned slightly shaking his head. "I'm still trying to figure out if you're an optimist or a pessimist," he muttered.

"I prefer the term pessimistic optimist. What position do you play again?" Chris asked, knowing full well all the positions but trying to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go.

"Seeker," Draco replied. "But there's only one of those for each team."

"No shit," Chris drawled. "Even I knew that. So a little birdie told me your dad bought your way onto the team," he commented. Draco stiffened. He seemed angry, and for a moment Chris thought he was about to receive the Wrath of Draco; but then he seemed to calm, turning to open the large chest sitting on the ground.

"Yeah they would," he said picking up a large red ball. He turned to face Chris. "Contrary to what they all believe though, the brooms were a congratulatory gift from my father for making the team, not my ticket in. Just so you know." He threw the ball suddenly, launching it at Chris's head forcibly.

Chris dropped the broom catching the ball with ease before it could smash his nose. He lived in a house with a brother and constantly visiting cousins after all. He was quite used to having random objects hurled at his head. Not to mention all the things demons threw at him; he never actually caught those, but he still needed quick reflexes to stop them telekinetically in time.

Draco nodded. "Chaser probably. How's your aim?"

"Pretty good. If I say so myself." Of course Chris had always thrown those random objects chucked at his head right back, and he always hit his mark.

"Okay then. Let's get you flying, shall we?"

How about let's not?

Chris shrugged noncommittally. "Why not? Sooner I'm up the sooner I can fall off."

"You're not going to fall off," Draco replied rolling his eyes. He paused regarding Chris intently. "Are you?"

"Eh," Chris said shrugging again. "You never know."

Draco huffed shaking his head. "Just don't fall off then, all right?" Without waiting for an answer he moved forward. "Mount your broom like this and kick lightly off the ground," he said demonstrating. He soared upward a couple feet, hovering over the field. "Well come on, Matthews."

Chris picked his own broom up, swinging his leg over it. Personally he had severe doubts that this would work. Well no, he knew it would work, Aunt Phoebe had flown on one before after all, he just thought it was decidedly dumb, for lack of a better word, to fly on a stick. For starters it was a stick with a bushy end for all intents and purposes, and he couldn't even begin to see how it was comfortable to sit on.

This is so frickin' stupid. This is going to end in a shitstorm.

He grasped the handle tightly and kicked up from the ground. A feeling of weightlessness enveloped him for a minute reminding him of when he and Phoebe had once switched powers. It was like levitating…with a stick. A momentary moment of panic struck him as he rose past Draco. Immediately he pressed the front down, sighing slightly as he descended. He shifted his weight to better balance it, experimentally leaning to each side to turn. It was easier than he'd expected. The broom seemed to respond to almost subconscious mental thoughts like moving an arm or leg. A sudden feeling of déjà vu swept over him filling his vision with images that weren't there. Chris shuddered hating the sense that made him feel insecure and apprehensive. He shook his head to clear it, focusing back on the broom below him. Flying seemed familiar somehow; like the feeling you get when you ride a bike after not bothering for a long while or when you first go ice skating after the spring and summer. Unsure and unsteady, but familiar and somehow innate. His body knew what to do even as his mind struggled to comprehend it all.

Chris smiled slightly. He hadn't been entirely too keen on the idea of flying, but this wasn't so bad. It was almost pleasant. Draco clapped his hands lightly, the way aristocratic pricks do, and whistled. Chris arched an eyebrow turning to face the other boy.

"Like I thought," Draco said grinning. "A natural."

"You can tell that from me being in the air five seconds?" Chris asked suspiciously.

"When the only instruction to get you there was 'kick off the ground' and you didn't end up on the other side of the Quidditch pitch—yes."

"Oh. How do these first trials usually go then?" Chris said.

Draco frowned delicately. "Er…we'll just say they generally end in the hospital wing."

Oh wow. Damn ferret, you're a shit load of help. Not even giving a friggin' warnin' or anythin'.

"Geeze. Well thanks for the warning."

†††

"Hey bro. How were tryouts? Did ya make the team? How th—holy! What the Hell happened to your face?" Wyatt demanded worriedly reaching out to pull Chris's chin up so he could examine the rather large and nasty looking bruise.

Chris made an unenthused face but didn't protest Wyatt's ministrations. "Heh, tried to catch a ball with my face," he said wincing when Wyatt probed his cheekbone gently. "Needless to say the ball kicked my ass. Hey! Watch where you're poking. Jesus. Hurts bad enough already without you stickin' your fingers all over."

"Sorry," Wyatt said immediately an apologetic expression overtaking his features. "Hold still. I'll heal it," he murmured moving his hand to hover over the yellow and purple skin.

Chris batted his hand away with an annoyed look. "No. God, the entire team saw me get smacked in the face with the Quaffle thingy and the consequent trophy of my awesomeness. If I suddenly show up completely fine they're gonna wonder."

"Sorry," Wyatt said again dropping his hand. "I don't like seeing you hurt though."

"Can't you just be normal once in a while, Wy? Ya know, tease me for bein' an idiot and trying to catch a ball with my head or somethin'?" Chris sighed.

Wyatt frowned. "Are you _asking_ me to be mean?"

"Nope. Normal not mean, there's a difference."

"Maybe," the blonde said skeptically. "But we're not normal."

"Perhaps," Chris relented. He brushed his own fingers across his cheek softly, cringing at the soft pressure. "But I wasn't punched in the face by a demon…this time."

"So I don't like seeing you in pain and hurt. Even if it's just a sports injury. Sue me."

Chris scowled rolling his eyes. "Wouldn't get anything out of it," he muttered.

Wyatt huffed shaking his head. "So did you make the team?" he said changing back to the original subject. "Or were you denied because you dropped the ball?"

"I didn't _drop_ the ball," Chris replied glowering. "After it hit me I caught the damn thing which awarded me with the lovely position of a chaser."

"A chaser?" said Wyatt. "That's great bro! Knew you would make it." He clapped Chris affably on the shoulder ignoring his slightly displeased look. Chris had never been one for sports. "Where were you headed?" he asked glancing around the barren corridor.

"To find food. I frickin' starving," said Chris starting to walk again. Wyatt nodded then reached forward snagging his brother's arm and orbed.

"Hey!" Chris protested looking around in shock. There were numerous beds in a half moon shape arced around a central wrought iron thing that served a purpose unknown to Chris. The curtains around each bed and the covers were both an obnoxious reddish orange; nowhere near as soothing as the simple green and silver on his bed. "Where are we?" he asked suspecting the answer.

"My dorm room," Wyatt said predictably, disappearing through a door off to the right. He came back a moment later pushing Chris back to sit on his bed. He handed Chris a small towel, wet with cool water. "Here, take this."

Chris rolled his eyes but took the towel gently pressing it to his face. He had to admit; it felt good. "Mother henning me again you are."

"Shut up Yoda."

"A Star Wars reference? You are a geek."

"Me? Ha," Wyatt said taking the cloth back and dabbing Chris's face himself. Chris scowled but held still despite wanting to snatch the cloth back. Wyatt was weird like this sometimes, much like Leo, and he needed to feel that other people needed him.

Chris sighed worrying his bottom lip and thinking back to his trip to see Teresa earlier before tryouts. He contemplated telling Wyatt for a minute then ditched the idea. If he told Wyatt about the Elders trying to give him a potion to do god knows what, he'd have to explain why Teresa had asked for help and all about the dreams, and…no. He wasn't going to try and explain it all because he never wanted to tell Wyatt about the dreams. He couldn't think about how he'd tell Wyatt what he dreamed of him doing every night. The pain he caused, the feel of his fist against his cheek. The cold blue eyes unforgiving…

Wyatt dabbed a little harsher and Chris flinched back bringing up a defensive hand. "Sorry. Geeze wasn't trying to hurt you there," Wyatt said pushing Chris's hand back down.

Chris forced himself to nod, disgusted at the clammy sense of guilt clawing at his insides. He should tell Wyatt shouldn't he?

No!

Chris blinked and frowned. What?

You can't tell him…

Why not? He deserves to know his brother is…something. Crazy? Schizophrenic? Paranoid? What kind of person dreams about his brother as some sort of monster with enough detail to get mixed up between the two sometimes? What kind of person wakes up in the middle of the night scared shitless of their own brother? What kind of person thinks that his brother could kill his family? His _family. _What kind of person…

What kind of person kills their own cousin? Tries to kill his own brother? What kind of person murders countless innocents to further himself? What kind of person tortures for fun and pleasure? What kind of person laughs at their younger sibling while they struggle to draw in ragged breath after ragged breath through collapsed lungs from broken ribs? What kind of person willingly causes so much harm to another human being because they can?

Shut up.

Wyatt. Wyatt does.

No he doesn't.

How do you know?

They're just dreams.

Just like the dream you had last year in November? Just a dream?

Shut up.

You know you're arguing with yourself here.

_Shut_ the _Hell _up.

Wow. Eloquent. They aren't just dreams.

Yes they are. They're just dreams. Nightmares. I can tell Wyatt. He's my brother, I can talk to him.

No! For Christ's sake, no!

Shut up. Whatever you are, just shut the Hell—

"Hey. You all right?" Wyatt asked worriedly. Chris blinked bringing his brother, who was kneeling in front of him, back into focus. "You kinda zoned out there. Hell, you're really pale, Chris. How hard did that ball hit you? Maybe you have a concussion."

Chris blinked again and shook his head dispelling the strange thoughts that had invaded his mind. He offered the blonde a lazy grin. "Nah. I just…got lost in thought. Sorry. And the ball didn't hit me that hard. 'Sides you know I bruise easily."

"You don't have to tell me. I poke you and you bruise." Wyatt chuckled flopping down on the bed beside Chris. It bounced slightly under the sudden weight tilting Chris backwards. He fell back laying shoulder to shoulder with Wyatt and closed his eyes suddenly very tired.

"Chris?"

"Hmm?"

Wyatt hesitated saying slowly, "Can I ask you a dumb question?"

"Better than anyone I know," Chris replied yawning.

The blonde scowled but ignored the comment. "You know the link that Harry has with Voldy?"

"Yeah?"

"Couldn't it be like a good thing?"

Chris sat up twisting to stare disbelievingly at Wyatt. "A good thing? What on Earth makes you think it could _ever _be a _good _thing?"

Wyatt pulled himself upright, shifting into a sitting position. "You remember that time I went psycho? When that demon, oh what's his name—Dextras, made me a friggin' lunatic?"

"Yes…" Chris said slowly.

"And you did that weird mind link thingy to, ya know, incapacitate me while you guys worked on an antidote?"

"You mean when I nearly killed you by accident?"

Wyatt waved his hands dismissively. "Eh, details. But couldn't Harry do that to Voldy? Or something along those lines…"

Chris immediately shook his head. "No. I see what you're gettin' at here dude, but no."

"Why not?"

"Because Harry can't," Chris said shrugging. "It'd be too dangerous. Plus Harry knows next to nothing about links or anything."

"So teach him."

Chris shook his head. "No. Bad idea."

Wyatt furrowed his brow. "Why? Elders taught you didn't they?"

"Yes. But it takes continual contact with another person you're linked to in order to learn. I had you. Harry doesn't. The possibility of Voldemort learning there is a link if we try to use it is too great."

"So teach Harry fast," Wyatt said simply.

Chris chuckle humorlessly. "You're not getting this are you?"

"I just don't see what you're so worried about." Wyatt sighed shaking his head.

"I'm worried because if Voldemort finds the link and uses it, Harry doesn't have adequate mental defenses. It would be like dropping a ten pound weight on an egg with Voldy as the weight and Harry the egg," Chris said.

Wyatt frowned. "Come on Chris, give Harry some credit. He could be stronger than you think."

Chris sighed running his hands through his hair. "You still don't get it. It takes years, _years_, to gait the mental aptitude to combat a force like Voldemort. Especially if Voldy's got the mental power Dumbledore says he does. I'm not doubting that Harry has incredible mental power, but it takes more than that. You have to be able to _use_ it, _wield_ it, _control_ and _focus_ it. Pitting someone like Harry or even you against someone like Voldemort is bona fied mental suicide. Hell, I'm not even entirely sure it wouldn't be for me, and Teresa's trained me since I was six," he admitted.

He sighed again shaking his head. "Bottom line, Wy, is it's dangerous and Harry's vulnerable. _That's_ why I'm worried."

Wyatt smiled and chuckled lightly. "You are so much like Mom. I swear you're like a carbon copy, you know except for the whole male female thing."

Chris stared at him a moment then laughed. "Whereas I have no idea where you came from. You are just…uniquely you in so many ways I can't even begin to name them."

"Hey, got you to laugh didn't I?" Without waiting for an answer Wyatt stood from the bed hauling Chris up with him. "Enough of this worry-worry chit-chat. I'm starving. Let's get something to eat before curfew."

He bounded to the door as Chris remained sitting on the bed. He didn't feel like eating despite having skipped dinner. In fact the very thought of food was making him feel sick to his stomach. Wyatt pulled the door halfway open before realizing Chris wasn't following. He glanced over his shoulder cocking his head to the side in question.

"Uh, I don't really feel like eating," Chris said softly. "I'm just gonna head to bed. I'll see ya later." Wyatt looked confused opening his mouth to speak, but Chris orbed out before Wyatt could say anything, reappearing carefully in the Slytherin bathroom. Easing open the stall door he slipped out and cautiously inspected his face in one of the large mirrors frowning at the myriad of colors decorating his skin along his cheekbone.

Looks just like the one Wyatt gave you before.

Chris blinked at himself. Wyatt had never hit him. Well, except for when they were sparring, but he never let Chris with any permanent damage if he did manage to cause any harm. He would always heal him afterwards.

No he didn't. He beat you and let you suffer. Don't you remember? It happened here once. Harry found you after. Don't you _remember_?

"No," Chris whispered staring his reflection in the eye. They were bluer than usual. He sighed leaning his head against the mirror. The cool glass felt good, soothing his hot skin. "God. I'm going mental," he muttered.

Going? Dude, you've been here all along.

"I'm tired. That's all."

_Yeah_...tired. Sure.

Chris pushed away for the mirror turning from the black tiled bathroom and peeked out into the dorm room relieved to find it empty. He crossed over to his bed quickly pulling on more comfortable clothing and crawling under the green covers. He burrowed down as far as possible shivering with a sudden cold. With a flick of his wrist he tugged the curtains around his bed closed blocking out the light.

He let out a breath of air determinedly closing his eyes. He needed to sleep, that was all. Some nice restful sleep. A soothing, relaxing, refreshing night free of nightmares. Just a peaceful, dreamless…

Terrifying.

With the one thought an image exploded in Chris's mind as clear and vivid as the real thing. Wyatt. Tall, dark, and menacing. Long hair, black clothes, cold soulless blue eyes, sadistic smile. Hard hands locked around his throat—

Chris snapped his eyes open to stare at the bland green fabric less than an arm's length away. He swallowed heavily, the familiar fear of closing his eyes creeping up on him again. He wondered idly what dream it would be tonight as he slipped his hand under his pillow to grasp the smooth hilt of the athame he kept under the pillow.

Like old times, eh?

With the small, minuscule comfort of the cool metal in his hand, Chris let his eyes drift closed again falling into a restless slumber.

†††

Wyatt frowned staring at the rumpled covers of his bed where Chris had sat just a moment ago. A quick sense for the younger boy showed that he'd gone to his room as he said he would, but the mental shields were still up blocking Wyatt from gaining any insight on what Chris was feeling.

He chewed his bottom lip worriedly making his way down through the common room and to the Great Hall. There were a few stragglers left and Wyatt was relieved to still see food on the tables. Sitting down he helped himself to a plate of chicken and potatoes. He dug in half heartedly, thoughts drifting back to his brother.

Thinking back on their conversation, Wyatt was certain Chris had said he was hungry. Wyatt was just as sure Chris hadn't eaten anything for lunch, and while that wasn't necessarily unusual for the young Halliwell skipping dinner was. He didn't know what caused the sudden change of what Chris wanted. First he said he was starving, and then he didn't feel like eating. It was a constant thing too. One minute Chris wanted one thing, the next he didn't or wanted the opposite.

Chris was acting…different lately. And by lately he meant the past year. Slow, nearly imperceptible, changes had started. One day he'd be the Chris Wyatt had grown up with; one who would tell him anything, go along with his dumb ideas just for the Hell of it, play the faithful wingman to help him get a girl, lie flawlessly to Piper or Leo to cover his ass, and condescendingly degrade him while helping with his homework. The next Chris would shut himself in his room, throw up all his mental shields, spend a lot of time Up There, and refuse to speak to him. And then the next he'd be civil, talk to him, laugh and make jokes, but keep his distance almost like he was afraid of him.

Wyatt had put it down to the…event in November, trying not to let himself get bothered by it. When he'd talked to Mom about it she'd said it was puberty. "He's fourteen Wyatt. Teenage hormones and all." Dad had said pretty much the same thing and Grandpa had simply stated, "He's growing up Wyatt. He's going to start being less of an idealizing little brother and more of his own man." He'd even gone so far as to ask Chris what was wrong. But of course it was Chris so nothing was wrong and don't be dumb Wyatt.

He tried to not let it bother him. Tried to just act as normal as possible around Chris; whatever one he got at any moment in time. And it had been getting better. Chris was almost the _normal _Chris all the time. But since coming to Hogwarts, in just the short amount of time they'd been here, Chris had become even more withdrawn and hypocritical of himself on a noticeable level. His moods didn't change with the day now; they changed spontaneously and without reason.

This morning Chris had been normal and happy, then he'd gone to speak with Dumbledore and came back withdrawn. By the lake Wyatt had tried to talk to him about anything and everything, but Chris had responded only curtly and telepathically. Then he'd fallen into his civil attitude before going off with the Malfoy kid and came back relatively happy only to pull a switch back and go anti-Wyatt again.

Wyatt sighed dropping his fork and shoving his plate away, no longer in the mood to eat. There was something Chris wasn't telling him. He was sure of it. He was also ninety-nine percent sure it was related to November.

Staring glumly at his uneaten food, Wyatt stood deciding to head back to his common room determined to find something to distract him from his thoughts. He would deal with Chris's mood swings later. He didn't want to think about them anymore, and he definitely didn't want to think about November.

He made his way back through the dimming corridors trying as he walked to push all unwanted thoughts from his mind. He hated negative or depressing thoughts. They dominated the mind, making it nearly impossible for him to concentrate on anything else and continually dampened his mood considerably. He liked to think of himself as a happy person, and he rather enjoyed being a happy person. It was, quite frankly, just easier than dealing with any and all the depressing shit some people seemed to cling to. Like his cousin Pryce, who at only a measly ten years old, was a regular melodramatic drama queen; she practically thrived off of things that made her suffer. It was all rather ridiculous.

The Fat Lady let him into the common room with only a slightly disapproving glare at something he'd obviously done to somehow offend her. He slowed a bit somewhat surprised to see the common room relatively empty aside for a few higher level students and Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Naturally he gravitated towards his charges thinking he could find a great distraction from his thoughts with a game of cards or mundane conversation. The trio didn't see him coming over continuing their conversation in hushed whispers. Wyatt frowned as he made out some of the words.

"No, Harry. Your other hand," Hermione said pulling Harry's right hand over to peer intently at it. "Oh my god, you have to tell someone! Dumbledore at least—"

"No," Harry said harshly, snatching his hand back. "I don't want to bother him. Besides it's not like I have detention anymore or anything."

Ron sighed. "Harry mate, you have to tell somebody. She can't get away with doing that to you."

"Ron's right. You have to tell someone. If parents knew about this—"

"That's nice Hermione, but I haven't got any of those have I?" Harry snapped standing and storming off. He passed Wyatt without so much as a glance making a bee line for the dorms.

Wyatt raised his eyebrows in a silent question walking the remaining distance to the other two wizards. "Do I even want to know?"

Hermione bit her lip glancing at Ron before saying, "Your brother was in detention with Harry for Umbridge wasn't he?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, did he ever, er, say anything about it to you?"

Wyatt frowned thoughtfully and shook his head. "Just that it was boring. Lines or something along that."

Hermione nodded. "Er, It's just that, well, Umbridge had them use Blood Quills to write their lines."

"What are blood quills?" he asked confused. It sounded bad, but surly Chris would have told him if something bad had been happening during the detentions.

"Blood Quills are a special kind quill that etches the words written on the paper into the back of the writer's hand. The ink is also the person's blood. They're only supposed to be used for certain contract signatures and stuff," Ron explained.

"Exactly. Umbridge was making them write their lines with it. The back of Harry's hand is a mess, but he won't tell anyone. I guess Chris didn't tell you either," said Hermione.

Wyatt shook his head scrubbing his hands over his face. "God damnit. I'm gonna kill him." Ron just peered at him sympathetically.

One more thing Chris hadn't told him. He could just add it to the damn list of things Chris was neglecting to tell him. The worst thing though, as mad as he was that Chris didn't tell him, was how lousy he felt for not noticing himself. How did one miss that his little brother's hand was being sliced open continuously?

"I'm gonna kill him," he repeated standing and making his own way to the dorms. He didn't even look back at Ron or Hermione ignoring her call for him to wait.

All he'd wanted was some mundane chit-chat and a good game of cards. All he'd gotten was one more damn depressing thought to brood over. Damn him.

†††

"_Christopher Halliwell! Where the Hell do you think you're going!" Leo's face was livid, neck flushed red, veins pulsing repulsively. _

_Chris pushed past him muttering a simple, "Out."_

_Leo grabbed his arm, fingers digging into muscle, and pulled him roughly back. "No you're not. Get your ass back in your room."_

"_No."_

"_Don't you dare defy me, Christopher! Not again! I said get to your room."_

_Chris glared at the man who called himself his father. "And I said no," he sneered._

"_Boy, you're trying my patience. Don't make me tell you again to go to your room before you kill someone else!" Leo leaned forward pressing Chris against the counter. The edge dug painfully into his spine._

"_I don't have to listen to you!" Chris shouted shoving Leo back violently. The blonde stumbled back surprised but caught his footing. _

"_Yes you do! Your whole problem is your frickin' inability to listen and do what you're told! If you had done just as you were frickin' told, your mother would still be alive! It's your fault she's dead," Leo screamed glowering at his youngest son, tears sliding down his cheeks._

_Chris narrowed his eyes taking a step forward tilting his head back to look up at Leo. "No," he whispered. "It's your fault. It's your fault she's dead because she trusted you." His voice rose louder, tears rolling down his face in frustration. "You're a freaking Elder and she trusted you! If you'd done your job she'd be alive! It's your freaking fault that she's in a coffin under six feet of freaking dirt with a hole through her freaking h—" _

_The sharp sting across his cheekbone shocked him into silence._

…

"_So how was school sweetie?" Piper asked. She'd picked Chris up today as a birthday treat._

"_It was school. You know the usual boring, boring, boring," Chris replied shrugging._

"_Chris, you are the only child I know who complains about school being boring."_

"_So. It's not my fault everyone in my classes are idiots and I'm not."_

_Piper laughed, nodding her head in agreement. Chris smiled. _

"_There is one thing though that is your fault. You didn't see it. You didn't warn me," Piper said._

"_What?" Chris asked uneasily._

"_Why didn't you warn me?" Piper said. She was crying now, tears running down her face. "You should have stopped it."_

"_Stopped what?"_

"_It's your fault. Yours. You didn't see it. You didn't warn me. You should have seen it! You should have told me! You should have stopped it from happening!" Piper screamed._

"_Stopped what? Mom you're scaring me!" Chris cried. _

_Piper went absolutely still. "This," she whispered. _

_A semi truck grew in the window and slammed into Piper's side of the car._

…

"_Wyatt?" Chris said shakily. "Why?"_

"_We all have to make sacrifices brother," Wyatt replied unconcerned. "This is yours."_

"_But why them? What does having this place gain you?"_

"_Still so naïve, Christopher. This place gives me everything I don't already have. It's practically free access to Croatoan. If all he wants in return is a few measly lives then I will gladly give them to him."_

_Chris looked away from his brother's cold gaze hating the fact that he could no longer see Wyatt there. Just this unrecognizable man masquerading as his brother. _

"_Christopher. Look at me," Wyatt commanded. Chris didn't, keeping his eyes trained on the floor of the corridor. The blonde huffed grabbing Chris's brown locks to pull his head back painfully. "I gave you this assignment. I _told_ you _not_ to get attached," he hissed. "You never freakin' listen." He moved his hand to clench slowly around Chris's neck. "I'm going to make sure you listen this time. You're _never _going to forget." _

_

* * *

_

**All right...hope ya liked it...and now that this site has thoroughly ticked me off (I apologize for any random errors in alignment, scene breaks, bold or italicization, etc)...until next time *waves* **

**Oh damn almost forgot. I've got a question for yall:**

**Okay, so it's simple. I just want to know how many of you want Melinda to be a sister to Chris and Wyatt. She won't actually be in the story 'cause I don't really like her as a character still being around and everything. (Plus she wasn't here to begin with and she can't pop out of nowhere. And no, I refuse to make her suddenly be found after being kidnapped as a baby or some crap. If she ever existed in this story it'll be as a simple half mortal witch with nothing great about her.). So basically I just want to know how many of you want her to have been involved with the "event" in "November"? All your decision will affect is how Chris and the family reacts to some things and how they feel. So...the questiong is: does Melinda exist or not? You have until I update next time to review with your answer. **

**Let me know...**


	19. Anybody Else Think They're Strange?

**Okay, here it is. I wrote this very sporadically but I hope it all flows nicely. I can hope anyway.**

**Thanks to **_**all **_**my reviewers and a thanks to all my readers. I'm glad you are all toughing out the sheer amount of time it takes me to update. And on that note I apologize for my incredibly slow update speed. I know it's terrible. **

**Special thanks to crlncyln :)**

**AN: The POV change (From third to first to second, etc) in Chris's POV is intentional. It's not a sample of how terrible my writing is. **

**AN2: Oh this is un-beta-ed. This piece of crap is entirely mine :) Well the writing anyway…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed. Or Harry Potter. Which means no Chris and Wyatt all for me only…*sigh***

**Warning: Pansy Parkinson has a brain in here. *gasp* **

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Anybody Else Think They're Strange?**

"You look terrible."

Chris huffed, irritably grabbing a cup of coffee and ignoring the blonde on his right.

"Rough night?"

Again Chris ignored him choosing instead to refill his just emptied cup.

"You know you might want to start casting a silencing spell if they're going to continue. You're lucky the rest of the dorm mates are heavy sleepers."

At this Chris froze glancing at Draco out of the corner of his eye. "What?" he said quietly.

"A silencing spell," Draco replied indifferently piling eggs and bacon on his plate with a slice of toast. He took a large bite, chewing before saying, "Unless you _want_ to wake everyone else up that is."

Chris frowned guardedly sipping at his coffee as he eyed Draco with a critical gaze. "What are you talking about?"

Oh come on; you're not stupid or blonde. Don't act like it.

"You're good at bluffing Matthews, I'll give you that, but even you should know that this one is a lost cause," said Draco taking another bite of his toast. He raised a slim blonde eyebrow looking at Chris in surprise. "Did I actually manage to render you speechless?" he asked smugly.

Arrogant asshole. Of course not. I can bluff myself out of _any_ situation you twitchy, freaking, flaxen ferret. It's never lost 'til ya give it up. Idiot. If he keeps this up I'll curse his scrawny aristocrat ass into—

Chris snorted shaking his head. "Hardly. But most of the thoughts in my head right now are rather impolite so I'll keep them to myself thank you very much."

"So you aren't going to tell me what has you thrashing in your bed for the past two weeks?" asked Draco most likely out of nosiness not concern.

Never you frickin' twit.

"No," Chris said rubbing his temples wearily.

"Why not?"

"Why would I?" Chris countered smirking and draining his coffee yet again. Draco frowned peering at him curiously.

"Because I care?" he tried.

Oh, nice try ya freaking ferret; but like hell are you fooling me.

Chris grinned faintly. "Now who's bullshitting?" He stood ignoring the blonde boy's frustrated expression and walking from the Great Hall. He caught Wyatt's eye as he left, frowning at the blonde's thinly veiled irritated countenance. Slowing his steps he sent Wyatt a questioning look, cocking his head slightly in confusion as emotions of annoyance and anger filtered through their bond.

Wyatt tore his eyes away abruptly, leaving Chris feeling a little off kilter as he made his way out of the Great Hall fully. He shook his head in a useless attempt to clear his thoughts making his way to the History of Magic class room.

He couldn't think of anything he'd done lately to make Wyatt mad at him. Well, actually he'd done a lot of things that, had Wyatt known about them, would have landed Chris in a heap load of trouble. Not that Chris thought he'd done anything wrong, but Wyatt certainly would. Not that he had any right to be, he wasn't Chris's mother or anything; in actuality the whole family, at least the adults, all acted like they were Chris's mother. Always being overprotective, shielding, concerned, and prying into his thoughts. It was overbearing and domineering, and even though he knew they did it out of the goodness of their friggin' hearts he still resented them for it.

At least they care. At least they're _around_ to care.

Of course they care. Every Halliwell and Mitchell cared and watched out for each of the others. It was how the clan survived; everyone looking out for the other.

Only works when everyone puts forth full effort ya know?

He wasn't sure who was worse either. Grandpa was bad, Mom was awful, Dad was terrible, Wyatt hadn't been any worse than the typical big brother until last year but was now more horrible than all the others put together.

Well at least he's not trying to kill you.

Ahuh, small miracles. Didn't change the fact that he was still being unnecessarily invasive, protective, sheltering, fretful, anxious—

Chris slammed into something heavy, warm, moving and, most notably, not solid wood. He stumbled back in surprise, catching his balance before he could fall and looked down at the thing he'd run into. A girl was crouched on the floor picking up several books she must have dropped when Chris had so adequately run her over.

"Oh," he said internally wincing. He knelt in front of her reaching out to help gather the books. "I wasn't watching where I was going. I was just lost in thought. I'm so—"

The girl looked up, accepting the books Chris was handing her, and he felt his throat constrict suddenly with a surge of recognition.

Bianca?

Chris blinked, the fleeting recognition fading into complete bewilderment.

"—sorry," he finished lamely, finally releasing his hold on the girl's books.

She looked surprised but smiled timidly, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear with a delicate motion. "It's okay. I'm rather used to it."

Nope. She's frickin' Asian. Hair too dark, voice to high, skin not the right tone, cheekbones to low…

"You're used to wayward Americans mauling you in the hallway?" Chris asked dubiously.

…but other than that such a striking resemblance.

The girl's timid half-smile widened into a grin of sorts, and Chris felt his stomach flip oddly. "Mauling? Such a harsh word. How about 'bumping into' instead?"

"Well I'm not sure the insurance for that includes book damage," he said gesturing to one of the ripped book covers. "How about we settle for 'colliding' and call it even?"

The girl gained a genuine smile and she nodded. "Acceptable, I suppose."

"So, ah, I'm Chris," he said offering his hand after a second of awkward silence. He grasped her proffered hand revealing in the warmth, softness, and the surge of faint memories. He dropped it abruptly, swallowing in an attempt to quash the tumultuous emotions raging inside him.

How come I didn't meet her before?

"So," he repeated immediately feeling like an idiot. He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Uh. Do you, do you have a name or something? Or should I just call you Quiet Girl?'

"Oh. Er, I'm Cho," she said seeming startled. "Sorry."

Chris shrugged. "For what? It's fine."

"Well, Chris, what are you doing roaming out here? I thought I was the only one in the corridors this early," Cho asked tossing a strand of hair over her slim shoulder as she smiled at him again. It was a soft smile. Not the flirtatious 'I-really-want-you-to-pay-attention-to-me' smile, but just a smile.

"Uh. Avoiding the crowds. Usually saves me from running people over, ya know? Plan kinda failed this time though," he replied shrugging sheepishly.

Cho blinked, peering at Chris innocently. "Oh? I hear that plowing others over in corridors is a great way to meet new people."

"Really? Is that why you're out here then? You hang around waiting to be run over to meet new people?" Chris joked. Unfortunately, Cho seemed to wilt slightly, her smile fading, and Chris suddenly felt like he'd said something wrong.

"Er…no. Actually I was just avoiding the hall and…well the people," she admitted ducking her head as if ashamed.

Chris frowned, picking up feelings of guilt and immense grief practically radiating from the girl at such a level he kicked himself for not reading them before. Then again, Phoebe always did call him a surface reader, only subconsciously picking up on whatever feelings a person was experiencing at a certain moment in time.

Chris backpedaled, unsure what exactly to say. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to…pry or anything." He eyed her calculatingly, making a conscious effort to get a read off her.

She sniffed delicately, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, and Chris spared a quick moment to marvel incredulously at the speed at which her mood had switched. It rivaled his mother when she was PMSing.

"No," Cho said sniffing again, "It's quite all right. I've just been a bit of a mess since, well, last year, you know?" She glanced at Chris who bit his lip in faint puzzlement having no idea as to what she was referring to.

Oh, _now_ I remember you.

Cho raised a slender hand to her mouth. "Er, I forgot you transferred. You probably don't know anything about last year do you?"

Course I do.

In actuality, Chris knew a lot about what had happened last year with the Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort's return, Cedric Diggory's murder, and Harry's involvement in it all. But not a thing about this girl.

"Not really," he said. "Just that the Tournament thing was here and that the Dark Lord supposedly returned."

Cho paled a bit and trained her gaze on the floor. "Yeah," she whispered. "Can I ask you something? Do you believe You Know Who has come back?" She looked back at Chris, studying his face.

Chris met her gaze willingly and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

Cho nodded seeming to contemplate his answer. "I'm sorry. That was a presumptuous thing of me to ask."

Chris shrugged. "Eh, if you can't ask a man his view on the biggest badass out there what can you ask?"

She chuckled lightly, but Chris detected a hint of unease at the comment. He wrinkled his nose inwardly, frustrated at not being able to figure the girl out. With his array of psychic powers he was unused to being so unsure with his footing around a person.

"So, uh, where were you headin'? Chris asked changing the subject.

"Oh, I was just going to my first class. Early I know but," she shrugged trailing off.

"But you want to get there early because you want a good seat?" Chris finished arching an eyebrow.

Cho chuckled slightly, but her dark mood didn't lift. "I suppose."

"I see. What class is it?"

"Arithmancy," Cho said. "Advanced study."

Chris whistled. "Wow. I'm changing your name from Quiet Girl to Smart Girl. Wait, what year are you?"

Cho shrugged again. "I'm a sixth. You?"

"Ah, now I get it. I'm fifth. But you know, I've always found arithmancy to be fascinating."

Cho allowed a small smile, her aura brightening ever so faintly. "Really? You know that sounds like, well," she broke off wincing apologetically.

Chris nodded grimacing. "Like a cheesy pick up line. I know. I realized after I said it so why don't we pretend I didn't?"

"We could. Or we could just, well…"

"Acknowledge my stupid remark and see where the conversation leads us?" Chris guessed narrowing his eyes in concentration. Cho looked surprised but nodded her head in agreement.

"Girl, do you ever finish your sentences? That's three now," Chris asked smirking

Cho actually appeared shocked but smiled so Chris figured his efforts were working. "Yes," she said. "But you seem so good at finishing them before I can. Do you do that to everyone?"

Chris grinned impishly. "Generally. Can I walk you to class?" he said realizing they were just standing in the corridor.

The girl paused a moment before nodding. "Yeah sure, I guess."

They were silent for a beat, each waiting for the other to move. "Okay," Chris said. "New plan. You walk and I'll follow because I still have the navigational skills of a wrench in this building and I have no idea where your class is."

Cho giggled hiding a smile behind her hand. Yep, giggled. Drastic mood switch number two. In less than five minutes.

"All right. It's this way," she said heading down the corridor. Chris followed throwing out several more inane questions whose answers he had no interest in besides learning more about the not-familiar girl.

"So, if it's not too personal a question to ask, are you pure blood, half blood, muggle blood, something else blood?"

"I'm a pure blood. You?" Cho replied leading him up a set of stairs.

"Half-blood. And, uh, have you attended Hogwarts since first year?"

Cho nodded. "Of course. Most do."

"Except for me," Chris pointed out.

"And your brother."

"Well yeah."

Cho stopped at a nondescript wooden door, turning to face him while tucking a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. She cleared her throat lightly peering up at him from under her lashes.

"Well, it was, er, nice to run into you Chris," she said smiling softly. "I hope I see you around."

Chris blinked and nodded, the uncomfortable feeling of familiarity rising again. "Yeah, yeah. See you around." He took a couple steps back and waved as Cho disappeared into the room. He turned around and stopped staring blankly at the stone wall as if it held all the answers.

"What are you getting into?" he murmured. Normally he'd never actively pursue a random person for pointless conversation. But there was something about her…

Why are you asking me? You're the one who talked to her.

She seems so familiar, but I can't place it. And something is…wrong. I've never met someone like her. She's so…

Broken?

Damaged?

Hot?

Hurt. She's hurting. She's lost someone, but I don't know who. It almost reminds me of…

Bella Swan.

Me. It reminds me of me.

Conceited much? I'd defiantly go with Bella. Same ridiculous moping and crying and—

Chris shook his head to rid himself of the crazy thoughts swarming his head. He blew his bangs out of his face and sighed heavily heading back down the corridor to his own class.

He entered the room only slightly surprised to see Harry, Wyatt, and the others already there. He took a seat next to his brother frowning when Wyatt scowled and shifted his chair away. Chris reached out tentatively with his mind shrinking back like a kicked puppy when Wyatt turned his glare from a random wall to Chris. He instantly pulled back giving Wyatt the space he desired. While Chris had no clear idea why Wyatt would be angry with him, he could certainly come up with a few guesses, none of them good.

The thing about Wyatt was that it was exceptionally hard for a family member to tick him off. A demon—fairly easy; a random person—marginally effortless; his own brother—rather difficult considering Wyatt was too forgiving a person to stay angry at him for long. Unless Chris did something incredibly stupid by his brother's reasoning, which, given Chris's personality type, was quite often. He couldn't remember the last time Wyatt was _this_ angry though. Well, actually, he could, but he wasn't so sure that particular occurrence counted.

Wyatt ignored him for the majority of the class, Chris remaining silent by his side. If the trio noticed any of the tension between the brothers they drew no attention to it continuing as they normally did even with the lack of response from either American.

Chris tuned in on his brother focusing on every emotion to surface and every projected thought. He'd never go as far to invade the privacy of Wyatt's inner thoughts and mind, but he wasn't above taking what was openly provided.

"_You want to tell me what's wrong?" _Chris asked telepathically.

Wyatt jolted slightly at the sudden thought but replied stiffly nonetheless, _Nothing._

"_Bull. Why are you mad at me?"_

_Not mad at you._ Wyatt shifted avoiding Chris's gaze.

"_Bull again. You're just full of shit today aren't you? What's with all the angry thoughts huh?"_

_Stay outta my head._

"_I'm not in your head. You're projecting,"_ Chris protested.

_I'm not projecting. Projecting would be speaking, and I'm not speaking. _

"_When you're an empath and telepath virtually anything is projecting. You were projecting."_

_Shut up. _

Chris sighed mentally. _"Why? Did I do something?"_

_No Chris. Why on earth would you have done something?_

"_So I did do something?"_

_Not everything is about you, _Wyatt growled.

"_True. But this is?"_

_Let it go._

"_I don't want to. Seriously what's wrong?"_

_Stop prying._

"_No."_

_Why do you care?_

"_You mean besides the fact that you're my brother?" _Chris stated more than asked.

_If I was doing this do you, how would you feel?_

"_I'd want you to quit."_

_Exactly. So, once again, shut up._

"_But it's kinda a different situation from when you're usually pestering me."_

Wyatt rolled his eyes unable to keep from adding a physical reaction to their otherwise non-verbal conversation. _Really? How so?_

"'_Cause we're in the middle of a very important job. We can't afford to be holding petty arguments."_

_Who said they were petty?_

"_Are they life threatening?"_

_Depends._

"_Tell me." _

_No._

"_Come on Wy. If it's that important then I need to know."_

_I said no._

"_Wyatt—"_

"Just lay off," Wyatt snapped. The sudden, not to mention random to anyone but Chris, verbal speech shocked Chris and the rest of the class who all stared at Wyatt. The blonde huffed, shoving his books in his bag as the bell rang and quickly leaving the room.

Chris rolled his eyes, avoiding the three curious gazes of the Gryffindor trio as they too exited the room. He slung his bag over his shoulder frowning as Draco approached him.

"Trouble in paradise?" Draco smirked. "The Gryffindorks finally have it with your silver and green?"

"Don't you wish," Chris muttered.

"I'll take that as a no then. So what is up?"

Chris leveled Draco with a disbelieving gaze. "Why would I tell you? Hell, _why_ do you keep asking questions you know I won't answer?"

Draco shrugged. "On the off chance you actually do once. But seriously, what's with the theatrics? It's like watching a soap opera. Who knew so much drama could be packed into five people."

"So now you watch soap operas? That's cute," Chris said.

"No I don't watch them," said Draco wrinkling his nose in disgust. "I said it's like one. Doesn't mean I enjoy it."

"And yet you keep asking questions about it. Sounds like a guilty pleasure to me."

"I'm done discussing this with you," Draco said stiffly.

"And _I'll_ take _that _as a yes," Chris smirked. "If you didn't want to discuss it, why did you bring it up?"

"I didn't. You did," said Draco.

"No. I remember distinctly. You asked. I answered."

Draco scowled but let the matter go. He followed Chris down the Grand Staircase and into the Potions room. Snagging Chris's elbow he inclined his head toward the tables where he and the Slytherins sat.

"Sit with us," he said.

Chris frowned eyeing Draco calculatingly and tossing a furtive glance at Wyatt before following the taller boy to the front desks. Goyle glowered at him and Chris couldn't help but grin devilishly.

He knew the other boy, along with Crabbe and others, did not think very highly of him. They didn't like his standoffish manner, how he treated Draco, who they regarded as some sort of prince, or his associations with the other Gryffindors. He rather unnerved them and part of Chris took a great sense of enjoyment out of it.

Taking a seat between Draco and Pansy he inwardly winced at his position. Unfortunately, Pansy was not among those Slytherin who loathed him. For reasons unknown to Chris, because he knew she was rather fond of Draco and thusly shouldn't care much for him, she also seemed hell bent on expanding her fondness to him as well. Which was just the teeniest bit unsettling in his opinion.

For the full class time half the students succeeded in making a several batches of review potions from earlier years; the last being a Muffling Draught of which Chris was seriously considering forcibly shoving down Pansy's throat to make her shut up.

Chris was resisting the urge so far by petulantly ignoring her every word and making it obvious that he was doing so. Far from seeming to dissuade Pansy though, it only served to make her more annoying.

Draco kept giving Chris knowing looks that made him absolutely sure the blonde had given this seat to him on purpose; which in turn made it all but impossible to resist the urge to shove one of the other potions they had brewed, a Draught of Baldness, down _Draco's_ throat.

After class Wyatt left again without so much as a glance at Chris followed by the trio. Chris remained with Draco and the other Slytherins throughout the day, somehow managing to refrain from killing any of them, and joined them in the Great Hall for dinner.

Chris poked at his food listlessly, barely eating and only pushing it around on his plate. He blinked feeling the heavy weight of someone's gaze on him. He glanced at Draco on his right, but he was involved in a conversation with another Slytherin. Carefully Chris looked across the Hall. He caught his breath slightly, eyes coming to rest on Cho who immediately lowered her stare when he saw her.

She leaned toward redheaded girl murmuring in her ear. The redhead glanced quickly his way before avoiding his direction entirely. Not very subtle for someone trained to catch small acts. Chris sighed returning his attention to his unappetizing plate of food.

"Draco?" he asked.

The blonde halted his conversation turning to him instead. "Yes?"

"The girl at the Ravenclaw table. Dark hair, Asian, sitting next to the curly redhead with freckles. Who is she?"

Draco frowned staring at the table across from them. "You mean Cho Chang?" he said after a moment. His tone wasn't acidic, or blatantly offensive but rather indifferent meaning he had no opinion of Cho one way or the other.

Chris nodded. "Yes. What's her story?"

"I beg your pardon?" Draco said sounding slightly puzzled.

"Her story. You know, background, reputation, status," Chris elaborated.

"Why do you want to know? Are you _interested _in her?" Draco asked grinning maliciously.

Chris rolled his eyes reaching for his cup to take a drink. "Of course not. I'm…" he paused considering what to tell Draco and what to leave out. "I bumped into her in the corridor, we talked a little, and she said something about last year but wouldn't go into detail. I'm curious."

Draco nodded seeming to buy it. Slytherins were such gossipers. He shifted toward Chris a little lowering his voice slightly. "Last year the Triwizard Tournament was held here. Great honor for us supposedly but whatever. Our champion was Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff. He was killed in the last challenge. Of course it was an accident, but Potter claimed the Dark Lord murdered him. Unfortunately for Cho it doesn't matter what happened; dead is dead."

"Okay," Chris said slowly, "but why does Cho care so much?"

"Because," Draco said draining his goblet in one gulp, "he was her boyfriend of several months. In fact, she was his supposed 'thing he'd miss the most' in the second challenge."

Chris swallowed, involuntarily glancing back over at Cho and feeling an overwhelming sense of sadness. Losing someone close was never easy, and the pain never alleviated.

He cleared his throat seeing Draco looking at him intriguingly. "So, what do you think? Was it an accident or the Dark Lord?"

Draco frowned lightly seeming to weigh two choices before sighing heavily. "Let's just say I have other reasons besides trusting Potter to believe it may have been the Dark Lord."

"Ahuh," Chris said drawing his mind back to a more important matter. "And what, pray tell, would those reasons of otherness be?"

Draco smirked at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Chris chuckled. "Guess I would. But I know you won't spill so..." he trailed off pushing his plate of half eaten food away feeling suddenly nauseous. He frowned at the increasingly anxious sensation welling up in him. "I'll see ya around man."

Draco looked slightly surprised but covered it well. "Whatever," he said turning back to the Slytherin beside him to continue his conversation.

Chris left the hall catching Wyatt's gaze on the way out. The blonde merely scowled redirecting his gaze elsewhere. Chris sighed biting his lip nervously.

He wasn't sure why having Wyatt angry at him unsettled him so much. They were brothers; being angry with each other at points was in the job description. But now the thought of Wyatt being angry with him, especially _this_ angry, knotted and clenched his stomach almost to the point of making him physically nauseous which made him feel plain...scared. And the thought that he was scared of his big brother, someone he was supposed to trust explicitly, made him even more scared of himself and increasingly guilty about the whole situation.

Chris sighed leaning against the wall of the abandoned corridor. He suddenly wished he hadn't left the hall, loathing the fact that now he was alone with his thoughts. When he was preoccupied with someone or something else he was able to ignore the disquiet within himself, but when he was alone it became all consuming in his thoughts.

But he couldn't have stayed in the hall either; the large number of people and overpowering aromas of the food unexpectedly seeming suffocating. And so he'd bolted only to find himself alone in a corridor with his thoughts as unpleasant company.

He sneered at himself, letting his head fall back to hit the wall with an audible thunk and closing his eyes. He tried to calm his thoughts and find his equilibrium like Teresa had taught him to, but the thought of the Spaniard Elder served only to sour his mood further disrupting the entire process.

Chris huffed rubbing his hands over his face as the sting of betrayal reemerged from where he'd buried it. He had told one person about his physical visit to Teresa that morning, Dumbledore being the one to know since he was the only who could let Chris leave, and he'd told absolutely no one of the attempted stripping of his powers.

There was no point in it. Telling others would only worry them unnecessarily, and it really wasn't their business anyway. But Chris missed the faith he once held for Teresa; the reassurance that there was someone he could go to who understood him almost completely. And while Wyatt filled that spot great as a brother, Teresa had filled it best as his mentor.

She's a lying bitch. None of those friggin' golden robed asses can be trusted as far as I can move the Great Wall.

That's not all that far…

That's the friggin' point, idiot!

She could be trusted. She tried to warn me.

Chris scowled as he fell into an internal argument sliding down the wall to bury his face in his knees despondently.

She tried to kill you. Like everyone else.

I'm going crazy. Go away. Go away. I know what you are now and I want you to go away. Just go away.

Why? Don't like hearing how messed up you are? How messed up Wyatt is? Huh? Do you not like seeing it every night?

Stop.

Don't like watching him kill, do you? Or is it you killing? Do you worry about how much is true? I'll tell you. All of it.

Shut up. Shut up.

Why is that so hard to believe? Huh? Precious Wyatt a blood thirsty monster.

He's not a monster. He's not a monster.

_Monster_! Why can't you freaking see it! Monster! All of them! And they _hated_ you!

It's useless you know. What you're trying to do here. You'll fail and it will all be over. He'll win just like last time. Kill Harry and Ron and Hermione and Draco...try to kill you too. You should just beat him to the punch.

It wouldn't be that hard. You tried before. You almost made it.

If they'd found you just a minute later…

No. Go away. You're not real. You're not real. Go away. Go awa-

"Chris?"

Chris jerked his head up, argument fading away as he looked around confused. He blinked leaning his head back to stare sheepishly up at Cho.

"Oh. Hi. I eh...well..."

"Are you all right?" she asked concern adorning her features.

Chris frowned fleetingly before rising to his feet and plastering a smile on his face. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. Just...uh, lost and taking a break from trying to navigate this maze they call Hogwarts."

Well it's easier to navigate than your head.

Too true.

Chris rubbed at his temple absently as the concerned look didn't fade from Cho's expression.

"Are you sure? You looked...distressed."

"Oh I'm great," Chris said hastily. "What are you up to?"

Cho frowned but nodded anyway. "I'm on my way to class. Only five minutes until it starts," she said.

Chris blinked quickly. He hadn't realized he'd been sitting in the corridor that long.

Arguing with yourself too.

"Oh. Well I need to go then," he said picking up his bag. He glanced around trying to gain his bearings.

"Right," Cho said. "Er, where are you going?"

Chris huffed feeling disoriented and hating it. "North Tower," he muttered.

Cho smiled and pointed down the corridor. "Just go left and up the stairs," she said hiding a small chuckle.

Chris scowled. "Course," he said glaring in the general direction of the tower. He cleared his expression turning back to Cho who was regarding him thoughtfully.

"What?" he asked guardedly, more than a little unnerved by her inspection. He unconsciously drew in on himself crossing his arms in a defensive manner. Was it that obvious that something was wrong with him?

Yep.

Utterly.

Friggin' open book.

Cho blinked. "Nothing," she said quickly. She gave him a soft smile. "I'll see you around. Don't get lost now."

Chris felt a grin tug at his lips. "Was that a joke? Quiet Girl makin' a joke. Mark the date."

Cho just smiled brilliantly and walked away sending him a small wave over her shoulder.

They have the same type of smile, ya know? The kind that can just light up a room.

Who cares? She's just a sissy girl who will suck up too much time. Better to just start ignoring her now.

But I don't want to ignore her. We can help her.

Sure. No prob. I mean she's hot so...incentive for us.

I don't give a damn if she's a frickin' model. We ignore her.

No, we help her. Because she needs our help; not because she's hot.

So you agree then, that she's hot?

Not the frickin' point here!

But she's ho-

Shut up. I'm doing nothing but what I'm doing. Nada mas.

Yeah right.

Psh, you know she's hot.

You friggin' touch her and I'll friggin' kill you.

Uh, you do realize-

¡Càllate! Just go away.

Chris shook his head hard turning on his heel and walking to the base of the stairs. He paused at the bottom, staring up them for nearly a minute."Ah, screw it," he muttered heading back the way he came.

He slipped outside cursing under his breath as he noticed it was raining again. Stashing his bag behind a giant potted plant he pulled up his hood and set off at a jog. He ran around the lake until his breath came in sharp gasps and collapsed under a tree far enough from the beaten path that he wouldn't be seen.

He pushed his soaked hood back, combing his fingers through his wet hair. The pain in his side eased as he slowly stretched into a sitting position. Resting his hands lightly on his knees, Chris focused on empting his mind. He slowed his breathing. He let go mentally and felt his mind slip into numbing darkness.

* * *

Harry watched the trap door anxiously wondering when Chris was going to arrive. He hadn't spoken to the brunette all day and was itching to ask what was wrong with him and Wyatt. The blonde had barely said a word all day preferring to slouch in his seat and glare at the wall. Now he was staring moodily at the pages in front of him that Trelawney had assigned to read. He either didn't notice or didn't acknowledge his brother's absence.

Chris still didn't show up by the end of class and Harry couldn't help the worm of worry squirming inside of him. Wyatt showed no signs of noticing.

Chris wasn't in the next class or anywhere Harry could think of during free period. He was sure Chris wasn't outside if the raging thunderstorm was anything to go by. Finally Harry admitted that Chris must be actively hiding or in his common room.

Harry ate his food absently alternating between watching Ron wolf his down, Wyatt push his around glumly, and the empty seat next to Malfoy across the hall that was usually occupied by the second Matthews brother.

Wyatt tossed his fork down suddenly standing up and mumbling something about going back to the common room. The trio watched him go, Hermione's concerned gaze following him until he disappeared out of the hall.

"Well that was odd," Ron remarked shoving another bite of potatoes in his mouth.

"Both of them were acting odd today, Ronald," Hermione said.

"Either of you seen Chris after lunch?" asked Harry twirling his fork in the food thoughtfully.

Ron and Hermione shook their heads.

"Maybe they're just mad at each other," Ron mused though with his mouth full it sounded more like, Maybish ter us mud ut beacsh utter.

After a second of mental translation, Hermione rolled her eyes disgusted. "Genius Ronald. How did you figure that out?"

"The question isn't _if_ they're mad but why?" Harry interjected before Ron and Hermione could start arguing. Ron settled for just glaring at her.

Hermione bit her lip and eyed Harry in a calculating manner. "Maybe Wyatt's mad because Chris didn't tell him about the Blood Quills," she said carefully.

Harry frowned immediately catching the undertone message. "Hermione, don't bring that up." He had cooled down from last night enough that he wasn't furious with her anymore, but it didn't mean he had forgiven her completely yet.

"I'm just saying Harry," she said soothingly.

Ron nodded swallowing his mouth full of food. "True. Wyatt didn't look happy about it when we told him last night."

Harry's frown deepened. "You told Wyatt about the quills?"

"Chris is his brother," Hermione said defensively. "He deserved to know."

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "And did it occur to you for one second that Chris didn't _want_ Wyatt to know?"

"Of course it did," Hermione replied. "But Chris is much like you, Harry, in so far as he believes he can handle everything on his own, even when it's quite possible that he can't. I believe telling Wyatt was the right course of action."

Harry sighed standing up. Ron raised an eyebrow and Hermione looked mildly apologetic.

"Harry, I'm sorry but—"

"Let it go, 'Mione," Harry said. "I'm going to go see if I can find Chris anywhere."

"Catch you later, mate," Ron said.

Harry nodded following Wyatt's steps out of the Hall. He paused outside the doors pondering where to look. Malfoy was just ahead walking down the corridor, and Harry shook off the insane idea to bloody _ask_ the git where his fellow housemate was.

Harry checked all the places he'd checked earlier, plus quite a few he was absolutely sure Chris wasn't in, but he looked anyway. He finally settled on the conclusion that Chris was in his common room, that or outside in the thunderstorm, most likely the former, and was therefore out of reach for Harry because there was no way he'd ask any of the Slytherins to get Chris for him.

He rounded the corner and drew back immediately seeing Malfoy and a group of his followers gathered in the corridor. He leaned close to the wall, straining his ears to pick up on what they were saying. Pressing himself closer to the corner he could make out most of the words.

"—seen Matthews lately?"

That sounded like Malfoy.

"No. Not since lynch. Why?"

Lynch. Oh lunch probably.

"None of bigness." Malfoy again. Actually that was probably along the lines of 'none of your business'.

Harry frowned wishing he could get closer to hear more as he listened to some indistinguishable murmurs.

"Come on Draco," that was definitely Parkinson. Her annoying voice was unmistakable. "This has slumping to do with your farmer, right?"

Slumping? Oh something to do with your…father. What has to do with his father?

There were more murmurs, and Harry risked another glance around the corner hearing footsteps echoing the other direction.

Two of the Slytherins were walking away, leaving only Malfoy and Parkinson remaining.

"So tell me, Draco," Parkinson said. "You got orders from the boss or something like that?"

"Not so loud, Pansy," Malfoy snapped. He lowered his voice making it nearly impossible to hear at all. "I was fust cold to creep an try on da hue prudents. Futer did he erd slumping fum de mothers a but dem."

Harry wrinkled his nose annoyed at what he was hearing. Or, more specifically, what he couldn't hear.

"What do you mean, Draco?" Thank god Parkinson's voice wasn't as low as Malfoy's.

"I mean I dam crying to fund but mutts ew up to ere."

Bloody whispering.

"But what could Chris be up too?" Parkinson asked.

"Shh," Malfoy said cutting off the rest of what Parkinson had been about to say. "We really shouldn't talk about this here."

"Fine. But where is Chris anyway?" Parkinson huffed.

Harry gnawed on his lip trying to process the whisperings, happy they had returned to regular speaking levels.

Malfoy sighed. "How the bloody hell would I know?" he snapped. "He disappeared after lunch."

So Chris wasn't in the common room or the castle. Then where…

"Do you," Parkinson started then she stopped. Harry frowned. Just finish your stupid question.

"What? Do I what?" Apparently Malfoy had the same thought if his annoyed tone was anything to go by.

"I don't know," Harry could picture her scrunching her face up. "Do you think they're…strange?"

"What do you mean?"

"Strange. It's odd. I mean America usually keeps her wizards to herself. And Hogwarts rarely transfers students in _especially_ from western hemisphere. It's just strange," Parkinson said.

"Exactly," Malfoy replied. "That's why father asked me to do what I'm doing."

There was a short silence before Parkinson spoke again. "Come on, Draco. We should go back to the common room."

Harry frowned, listening to them walk away and sliding down to sit on the floor.

_I was fust cold to creep an try on da hue prudents. Futer did he erd slumping fum de mothers a but dem. _

What the hell? I was fust? I was must? I must? Must what? Must cold? That didn't make sense. Maybe I was just? I was just cold? Wait. I was just cold to…I was just _told _to…to creep? I was just told to creep and try on the…hue prudents…hue prudents…new students. I was just told to creep and try on the new students…whoa no. That can't be right.

Harry shook his head mentally skipping to the next part.

Futer. Father did the…Father did the errand? Slumping. Something. Father did the errand something fum…something for Mother…Mother a but…Mother about dem…Mother about them. Father did the errand, something for Mother about them.

I was just told to creep and try on the new students. Father did the errand, something for Mother about them. Maybe…next one.

_I mean I dam crying to fund but mutts ew up to ere._

I mean I dam…I am crying. Harry grinned at the thought of Malfoy crying but was pretty darn sure that wasn't what he'd said. I mean I am crying…trying maybe? I am trying to fund, but mutts ew…I am trying to fund what? Mutts? What are mutts?

Harry sighed giving up. He peeked around the corner, checking to make sure the Slytherins were gone, before rising to his feet and heading back to his common room.

If Chris wasn't in the Slytherin common room and he wasn't in _most _of the castle, then he was hiding in a place he'd stumbled upon or…

Harry stopped by a window staring out into the rain hammering down the glass.

Or he was outside.

Bollocks.

* * *

Wyatt flattened out the piece of paper running along the edge of the windowsill to straighten out the creases. He focused on the edges making the paper as close to perfect as possible. Once it was as flat as it was going to get he stared at it a second then promptly crushed it into a tiny ball squeezing it in his fist as tight as he could.

He gritted his teeth, unclenching his hand and pulling the paper apart to flatten it again. He slid it along the edge of the windowsill completing the time consuming process yet again.

He stared at the flat sheet of paper, gaze tracing along the numerous creases marring the white. So much like the figurative creases marring his relationship with his brother.

Since when was he such a philosophical thinker?

Wyatt scrunched it back up throwing it violently away and flicking his wrist, watching in pained satisfaction as it flared in a small burst of fire and fell to the floor in a flurry of barely perceptible ashes.

If only he could obliterate the creases between him and Chris that easy.

* * *

Chris's eyes flickered open immediately sliding shut again against the onslaught of rain. Chris gasped sitting bolt upright and shoving his drenched hair from his face.

The sky was dark with clouds lending no help for telling him the time or how long he'd been outside. He stumbled to his feet, holding on to the nearby tree for support as he shook he his head dragging himself fully from the self-induced trance.

It was something he'd learned to do himself, and something Teresa had warned him not to try too often. It was dangerous, she said. Chris believed her wholly, but lately it was the only way he could get beneficial rest without being plagued by the dreams.

Unfortunately he hadn't quite mastered it and while in the trance he was completely unaware of what was going on around his physical body, and he had yet to figure out how to control how long he remained in the trance.

It was for that reason specifically that Teresa told him not to induce the trances. She said it was unnatural for a being to be able to do what he did, to sever his consciousness into a synthetic in-between. Chris didn't find it unnatural. It was just like when he was projecting, only he stopped partway, halting in limbo. Delicious nothingness. A place to rest.

Feeling steady on his feet again and completely rested, Chris headed back up to the castle. He recovered his bag from where he'd left it and slipped through the doors when he discovered they were locked.

Damn. It was later than he'd originally thought it was. He meandered through the darkened corridors, avoiding Filch and heading to his common room.

The common room was completely empty as Chris crossed through it. He snuck into his dorm room, moving quietly so as not to wake the others. Pulling dry clothes from his trunk he slipped into the bathroom without a sound.

He rubbed his arms realizing just how cold he was as he pulled off his soaked clothing dropping it to the floor with a wet slap against the tile. Turning the water on to warm, he let it run a bit before stepping under it.

He nearly gasped at how hot it felt, nearly scorching on his frozen skin. He let the water pound over him, tilting his face up into the spray and feeling the hot water run through his hair along his scalp.

Chris took his time showering, knowing there was nothing else for him to do, and when he finally stepped out the entire bathroom was steamed up.

Dressed in dry clothes and considerably warmer, Chris wandered silently back down to the common room retrieving his journal from his bag. He curled up in one of the chairs before the dying fire flipping absently through the endless pages filled with his writings on his dreams. The stark words on the paper seemed unreal, like a story he was dictating, but each night, when the nightmares woke him from his sleep, the terror was much too real to be anything but the truth. The problem came when he tried to figure out what that meant.

Were the dreams forewarning what would one day come?

Or warnings of what _could _happen?

Reactions of an overactive imagination?

Insane visions of an ill mind?

Punishment?

He turned to the pages in the back looking at the rough sketches he had of the people he didn't know in his dreams. A man named Allan and a woman Amelia. Then there was an Asian man he didn't know the name of and…Chris stopped staring at the image of the next young woman startled.

She was another one without a name, but she bore a nearly uncanny resemblance to Cho. As he regarded her longer and longer, Chris was able to pick out a great many things that made her look entirely different, most notable being the unmistakable attitude in her expression, but at first glance the resemblance was almost breathtaking.

He snapped the book shut irritably, rubbing at his eyes to scrub away the image. That was just stupid. They were just dreams. Just dreams.

Shoving the book back in his bag, Chris settled deeper into the chair focusing his attention on the flames in the fireplace. He watched the flames dancing around the coals, stretching up then flickering down like a well rehearsed ballet. He honed in on the random pattern letting his thoughts fall away and loosing himself in the silent melody of the flames until he almost heard the click, swish, clunk of a lighter being flicked open and closed.

"_Look at him. Scrawny ass kid." _

_Chris stumbled as the boy shoved him, his hands scraping along the rough brick. He regained his footing, glaring at his four adversaries closing in on him. He calculated the chances of him being able to take them on by himself not liking the outcome. One at a time, or even two, he could probably handle. But he doubted they would be so fair; chances were they'd attack him all at once, and even with Phoebe's self defense training the chances he'd be able to handle all of them at the same time _without_ using his powers was about, well, zero._

_He'd no doubt get his butt kicked._

"_Aww, is the poor baby scared? Huh?"_

"_Frightened without your big brother around to keep you safe, are you baby?"_

_Chris swallowed as they laughed spreading out to circle him._

"_I'm gonna beat you senseless for what you did, bitch. You're gonna wish I'd frickin' kill you."_

_Chris ducked the first punch, somehow managing to twist and dodge the second and third attempted hits as well while landing two solid punches of his own on one guy's chin and the other's stomach._

_The forth hit caught him in the temple right above the ear making his head ring painfully. He grabbed the boy's arm twisting it around to try and pull it tight but let go as another punch hit at the base of his skull snapping his head back with a burst of agony. A kick to his stomach and another to the back of his knee and he was on the ground trying to shield himself vainly from the attack._

_A click, a swish, a wave of heat, and suddenly it was his attackers screaming and not him. _

_Chris screwed his eyes shut against the flare of light. He squinted, surprise surging through him as he saw one of the upperclassmen bad boys throwing fire at the others. He closed his eyes blocking out the lurching images and groaning as the lull of silence that fell over the ally was pierced with a loud ringing in his head. _

_Someone knelt next to him gently shaking his shoulder. Chris opened his eyes a slit scowling at the boy in front of him. _

"_How'd you do that?" he slurred trying to push the probing hands away. "What are you?"_

_The boy looked slightly nervous but grinned saying, "Do what? Scare them off? Guess I'm just that ugly."_

_Chris frowned. "No. You threw fire."_

_The boy blinked. "I think you hit your head," he said taking hold of Chris's arm carefully. _

_Chris yanked his arm back glaring at him. "You threw fire," he repeated thickly finding it very difficult to focus on the boy who kept blurring in and out of focus. "That's not normal. You're not allowed to do that against mortals. You're a demon," he rambled trying to crawl backwards from him. _

_The boy looked stunned as far as Chris could tell, but then he rushed forwards again. "I'm not a demon. Just a witch. What about you then? A witch too?"_

_Chris frowned feeling the boy's hands on his arms again to help steady him and not entirely sure he was following the conversation anymore. "You're a witch, too?"_

"_Too? So you are a witch," the boy said helping Chris to his feet. "Just passive powers I guess then considering you didn't do much to fight back here."_

"_No," Chris scowled then clamped his mouth shut as he felt his stomach lurch warningly. He leaned against the boy using all his willpower to keep the contents of his stomach in his stomach. Once he felt it calm a little he continued what he'd wanted to say before: "It's personal gain to, to do that." _

"_Personal gain? Kid, you just got the shit beat out of you. I'm sure defending yourself here wouldn't count as personal gain."_

_Chris pulled away from the boy's hands stumbling against the wall and ignoring the renewed unsettling of his insides. "I had it figured out. They were right where I wanted them," he said not exactly sure what he was even talking about._

_The other boy seemed to sense his confusion, stepping closer to him again. "I think you have a concussion. A nasty bump to the head at the very least."_

_Chris went to shake his head but stopped wincing at the pain and spinning world. "Shheh, maybe a concussion," he agreed dully. _

_The other boy chuckled wrapping an arm around his waist securely. "Thought so. Come on. I'll patch you up, kid." _

* * *

Wyatt grabbed him out of the corridor so fast Chris never saw it coming. One second he was walking down the hall on his way to class and the next a hand shot out snatching his collar and dragging him through a door. Though Chris would never admit it, even to himself, the abruptness startled him to a near panic before he realized who it was.

"Wyatt," he said evenly, trying to subtly readjust his shirt and quash the unease that had grown inside him.

The blonde remained silent, only glaring at Chris while gnawing on his lower lip. He turned suddenly beginning to pace up and down the rows of desks.

Chris frowned watching the uncharacteristic display of frustration all but tangibly pouring off his brother.

"Wyatt?" he repeated using a softer tone to try and break through the torrent of thoughts he could sense surging through Wyatt's mind.

"You're so stupid!" Wyatt exploded practically glaring daggers at his little brother. "Why are you so _stupid_ sometimes! Ugh! You're driving me insane!"

Chris opened his mouth to protest, then shut it not sure exactly what he was going to protest about. He didn't know what the problem was. He could think of many, many things it could possibly be, but his number one rule was to never admit to anything he wanted to keep secret unless called out irrevocably on it. If he started apologizing for everything he should probably apologize for he'd no doubt inform Wyatt of something he didn't know and didn't need to know.

"I, I don't," he floundered feeling overwhelmed by Wyatt's thoughts and emotions. It felt like he was being drowned in a tangled web of feelings and thoughts Wyatt was unwittingly projecting. Chris drew up his defensive shields trying to block out the myriad of psychic projectiles being thrust his way. While he didn't channel them like Phoebe had when she first became an empath, he still felt the confused mesh of emotions tangled inside of him, many not belonging to him at all.

"You don't know what you did?" Wyatt asked raising a sardonic eyebrow. "Of course you don't," he sneered, "because _you_ don't think you did anything wrong."

"So I did do something?" Chris asked trying desperately to figure the situation out. Once he did he wouldn't feel so lost and unsure. Once he knew where he stood, he'd be in charge of himself again. As it was he felt like he was at Wyatt's mercy and, for some reason, the very idea seemed frightening.

"Argh!" Wyatt seemed to only just manage to refrain from stomping his foot, instead opting to run his hands through his hair and tug at the short strands. "Yes! But that's not the point!"

"Okay," Chris said feeling almost…meek. Part off him scowled at the thought, but he held back unwilling to allow himself to be angered by Wyatt's actions. Wyatt could be a pretty easy going brother, but when he blew the gasket, well, he was prone to grade A conniption fits. "Then what is the point?"

"You! You are the point!"

Chris frowned. "Me?"

"Yes. You." Wyatt returned to his pacing and Chris felt a pang of annoyance at his brother's vagueness.

"Me how?

Wyatt didn't answer seemingly content to wear a hole in the floor instead.

Chris sighed, running his hands through his dark hair. "What's wrong?" he pleaded, gaze following the blonde pacing back and forth. "Talk to me."

"Oh, you want _me_ to talk to you, huh? I'm supposed to talk to _you_, but _you_ don't have to talk to _me. _Is that it?" Wyatt demanded throwing his hands in the air. He spun around suddenly in front of his brother, fast enough to startle Chris.

He stepped away taken aback by Wyatt's anger. His brother had a long fuse with him, but when Wyatt hit his limit he hit it hard. And he'd hit this one particularly hard.

"Is it that difficult to talk to me?" Wyatt continued, "I mean do you think you can't trust me or something? Or do you just think I'm stupid?"

"I don't understand what you're getting at," Chris started.

"I thought we'd agreed not to lie to each other anymore," Wyatt snapped.

Chris shook his head immediately denying it. "I'm not lying to you. I don't know—"

Wyatt growled slamming his hands against the desk. "The detentions Chris! I'm talking about the detentions!" Chris flinched, taking another step away and dropping his gaze to the floor.

Oh, so _that's _what he's going batshit over. Not that freaking bad.

"And I'm talking about the so-called _lines_ you wrote. Did you just conveniently forget to mention you were carving them into your hand?" Wyatt said.

Chris froze mentally kicking himself for not picking it up earlier. "What?" he said carefully.

"The detentions with Umbridge," Wyatt said. "Harry told Hermione and Ron about the blood quills."

He wouldn't

He did.

Traitor.

The brunette pinched his nose sighing. "It's not your business."

"No? I think it is."

"Well it's not!" Chris shouted loosing is own temper. A foreign feeling welled up in him refusing to be quelled like before; burning anger at Wyatt, at himself, at the world. "It's none of your damn business! If I don't want to frickin' tell you something then I damn well don't have to frickin' tell you!"

Wyatt didn't miss a beat, yelling right back. "Yes you do! That was part of the deal, remember? You had to be completely honest with me at least. I know you've been keeping something from me for awhile and I let you, but you just keep lying to me and it's reaching its breaking point!"

Really? Thought we already hit that.

If this isn't the breaking point then I don't wanna see it.

"I don't have to tell you," Chris muttered turning his back to his brother.

"Yes you do!" Wyatt sighed resting his weighty gaze on Chris's back. "Your mood swings are getting worse again. Did you notice that?" he asked softly. "You're not sleeping. Again. I can tell. Did you think I couldn't? You aren't eating. You're clamming up. I'm _worried_."

"Well don't worry."

"I always worry."

"You don't have to."

"Yes I do."

"Well stop then."

"Can't," Wyatt said. He paused for a moment, "They told us to watch you. Keep an eye out. For signs like before."

Freaking little, good for shit, conniving, jackas—

Chris clenched his jaw, determinedly snuffing out his anger. It was more difficult than it should have been, but the last thing he needed to do was completely blow up at Wyatt. He wasn't surprised by what Wyatt said. He'd expected it actually, and he still hated it. But it didn't matter because what had happened before was _never_ going to happen again.

"'Course they did," he said with forced calmness, "Wouldn't be professional if they didn't."

"They said to be especially attentive around this part of the year. The closer we get to November," Wyatt bit his lip shaking his head. "You were getting better, Chris. You were completely fine practically until we came here. And then in less than a week you're back to…to _this._"

"Feels like longer," Chris said.

"Talk to me Chris. _Please_."

Good idea.

I don't think—

No.

Absolutely friggin' _no_.

Chris gnawed on his lip, glancing at Wyatt out of the corner of his eye. "What do you want?" he whispered.

"Just _talk_. Get it out of your system. Whatever it is that you're keeping bottled up inside about November, about here, or about whatever it is. Please just talk to me," Wyatt said earnestly leaning towards him.

Yes.

Chris shook his head facing away. "No."

Wyatt huffed. "God damnit Chris! Why not?"

"There's nothing to tell!" Chris shouted turning to face him. "Why are you so convinced that I'm lying to you and keeping something from you? Huh? Why? Would you even believe me if I said anything or would that be a lie too?"

"I can tell when you're lying," Wyatt said. "You might be the empath and telepath, but I'm your brother."

"Right. And that means _so _much."

"It means enough," said Wyatt steadily.

"No. It doesn't." Chris snatched his bag off the table and stalked to the door.

"Where are you going?" the blonde asked. "I'm not done."

"To freakin' class," Chris snapped. "I don't give a damn if you're not frickin' done. I am."

* * *

Harry wasn't surprised at all when a, for lack of a better word, _storming _Chris stalked into the classroom nearly fifteen minutes late and practically threw himself into his chair slouching so low Harry thought he'd slide right out of the chair.

He was followed several minutes later by a equally not composed Wyatt, who all but stomped his way into Binns's lecture taking the seat furthest from his brother.

Hermione glanced over at Harry with a slightly concerned look, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly in a silent question. Harry shrugged having no idea as to the problem, only being aware that there was, in fact, a problem. Though by now he was sure a blind and deaf man could figure that much out.

He frowned as he saw Malfoy twist around mouthing a question in Chris's direction. The brunette only shrugged which seemed to annoy Malfoy as he shook his head and turned back around in his seat.

He sighed looking from Chris to Wyatt to Malfoy and back to Chris again.

Parkinson was actually right for a change. Things concerning the Americans were definitely strange.

* * *

**Well there it is. Hope it's not to terrible. If it is I'll just blame it on being tired.**

**Anyhoo. Hope you liked it. Drop me a review or don't. Right now I really couldn't care less, I just hope you're enjoying the story.**

**I'm, once again, sorry for the long update wait. This summer has just been killer hectic. Sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating under all the crap that needs done. Anyway…**

**Hope you enjoyed and thanks again everyone :)**

**Oh, almost forgot. Melinda is **_**out of the picture**_** (I think anyway. Pretty sure.) She doesn't exist. Hoorah. **

**All right, seriously, I'm going now. **


	20. Eye Of The Storm

**Chapter Seventeen: Eye Of The Storm**

**cflat: Thank you for your review. I'm glad you like it. Um, at some point Chris may tell the others. I think. As for the soap opera thing—I realized that but (though the books and movies never really address it) the wizarding world has their own bands and stuff why not tv shows? (even though it may not be in the same manner as the muggle world cause well tvs **_**are**_** a muggle thing). And lastly, this story did start as a Non-Melinda but I reached a point where I had an idea for a Non-Mel and a Mel plot line and I asked for the readers opinions. **

**Tayler: Fear not. All pairings (in the end at least) will be either completely canon or only slightly altered. None (I think. At least no main ones) will be cross pairings. Thanks for your review. **

**Because I'm a bitch and didn't update in forever I will stand still while all of ya'll throw rotten produce at me.**

* * *

_Before~_

"_You look terrible. Rough night?"_

_Chris ignored Draco choosing instead to refill his just emptied cup. _

"_You know you might want to start casting a silencing spell if they're going to continue. You're lucky the rest of the dorm mates are heavy sleepers."_

…

"_Oh," he said internally wincing. He knelt in front of the girl reaching out to help gather the books. "I wasn't watching where I was going. I was just lost in thought. I'm so—"_

_The girl looked up, accepting the books Chris was handing her, and he felt his throat constrict suddenly with a surge of recognition._

_Bianca?_

_Chris blinked, the fleeting recognition fading into complete bewilderment. _

"—_sorry," he finished lamely, finally releasing his hold on the girl's books. _

…

_Cho paled a bit and trained her gaze on the floor. "Yeah," she whispered. "Can I ask you something? Do you believe You Know Who has come back?" She looked back at Chris, studying his face. _

_Chris met her gaze willingly and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah I do."_

…

"_Tell me." _

"_No."_

"_Come on Wy. If it's that important then I need to know."_

"_I said no."_

"_Wyatt—"_

"_Just lay off," Wyatt snapped._

…

"_Trouble in paradise?" Draco smirked. "The Gryffindorks finally have it with your silver and green?"_

"_Don't you wish," Chris muttered._

…

"_You mean Cho Chang?" Draco said after a moment. _

_Chris nodded. "Yes. What's her story?"_

"_I beg your pardon?" Draco said sounding slightly puzzled. _

"_Her story. You know, background, reputation, status," Chris elaborated._

"_Why do you want to know? Are you interested in her?" Draco asked grinning maliciously. _

…

"_Let's just say I have other reasons besides trusting Potter to believe it may have been the Dark Lord."_

"_Ahuh," Chris said drawing his mind back to a more important matter. "And what, pray tell, would those reasons of otherness be?"_

_Draco smirked at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?" _

…

"_Wyatt didn't look happy about it when we told him last night."_

_Harry's frown deepened. "You told Wyatt about the quills?"_

"_Chris is his brother," Hermione said defensively. "He deserved to know."_

"_Harry, I'm sorry but—"_

"_Let it go, 'Mione," Harry said. "I'm going to go see if I can find Chris anywhere." _

…

"_Do you," Parkinson started then she stopped. _

"_What? Do I what?" Malfoy said annoyed._

"_I don't know, do you think they're…strange?" _

…

_Wyatt scrunched the paper back up throwing it violently away and flicking his wrist, watching in pained satisfaction as it flared in a small burst of fire and fell to the floor in a flurry of barely perceptible ashes. _

_If only he could obliterate the creases between him and Chris that easy._

…

"_You're so stupid!" Wyatt exploded practically glaring daggers at his little brother. "Why are you so stupid sometimes! Ugh! You're driving me insane!"_

…

"_You don't know what you did?" Wyatt asked raising a sardonic eyebrow. "Of course you don't," he sneered, "because you don't think you did anything wrong." _

"_So I did do something?" Chris asked trying desperately to figure the problem out._

…

"_Oh, you want me to talk to you, huh? I'm supposed to talk to you, but you don't have to talk to me. Is that it?" Wyatt demanded throwing his hands in the air. He spun around suddenly in front of his brother, fast enough to startle Chris. _

…

"_Yes you do!" Wyatt sighed resting his weighty gaze on Chris's back. "Your mood swings are getting worse again. Did you notice that?" he asked softly. "You're not sleeping. Again. I can tell. Did you think I couldn't? You aren't eating. You're clamming up. I'm worried." _

"_Well don't worry."_

"_I always worry."_

"_You don't have to."_

"_Yes I do."_

…

"_Where are you going?" the blonde asked. "I'm not done."_

"_To freakin' class," Chris snapped. "I don't give a damn if you're not frickin' done. I am."_

…

_Harry wasn't surprised at all when a, for lack of a better word, storming Chris stalked into the classroom nearly fifteen minutes late followed several minutes later by a equally not composed Wyatt._

_Parkinson was actually right for a change. Things concerning the Americans were definitely strange._

_Now~_

It had been days since the argument. Yet, Chris still found himself picking at his food unable to bring himself to actually eat any of it. He still felt drained and conflicted.

Part of him was internally screaming at Wyatt, furious at the words the blonde had hurled at him. Another part was resigned, continuously pointing out that, however erroneously delivered, the accusations and words spoken were true. Still another smaller part was yelling at himself inwardly urging him to go and apologize for his uncalled for reaction. Sure Wyatt had been upset, but he could have handled himself better rather than exploding. And another even smaller part didn't care who was right and who was wrong, he just wanted Wyatt to not be angry at him because having Wyatt angry at him was terrifying. And another didn't give a flying frick about it at all. And another was continuously repeating over and over the argument in his head. Over and over and over—

Chris slammed his silverware down on the table glowering at his plate without seeing it. He ignored the sharp glance from Draco and continued giving the glare of death to the poor piece of corelle in front of him.

Over and over. Over and over. Over and over.

_They told us to watch you._

And over.

_You're so stupid!_

Over. Over.

_I thought we'd agreed not to lie to each other anymore._

Over and over.

Why did Wyatt have to make him feel so goddamn guilty?

_Keep an eye out. For signs like before._

_Signs like before…_

_Like before._

Ahh hell no. Definitely not up to going there.

Definitely not.

†††

Harry rummaged through his bag mentally cursing when he finally accepted the fact that he had indeed forgotten his book. Now he had to walk all the way back up to the common room to get it. Whoever designed the castle so the Gryffindors were on the seventh floor should be hexed. He got up from the table glancing at the others. Hermione looked at him surprised.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Forgot my book," he replied frowning. "Think I left it in the common room."

She nodded. "Check if Wyatt's still there."

Harry glanced at the seat usually occupied by the blonde and nodded. He left the hall heading back to his common room. A sudden hand on his arm startled him and he jumped, reflexively grabbing for his wand before he realized it was Chris.

"You told Wyatt about the detentions." It was more of a statement than a question.

Harry frowned. Obviously he was not on the same page with the brunette American. He pulled his arm from Chris's grip.

"What? You're talking to us now?" he asked feeling slightly petty. It was petty he knew, but Chris hadn't spoken to any of them since he and Wyatt stormed into Binns classroom a couple days ago only associating with the Slytherins instead. So Harry figured he was a little entitled.

Chris rolled his eyes muttering under his breath. He ran a hand through his hair tugging at the disheveled strands. "Look, did ya tell him or not? Just answer the question."

"No. I never told Wyatt. I never told anyone." Harry shrugged looking faintly sheepish. "Hermione and Ron caught on and then _they_ told Wyatt…" he trailed off shrugging again. He wasn't sure why Chris was making such a big deal about it. Sure, he hadn't wanted the others to know either, but now that they did there was no point in being too upset about it. Well, he was working on getting over it so Chris could too.

"Told Wyatt," Chris repeated. "_Told_ Wyatt. And you didn't _think_ to maybe give me a heads up or something that my _brother_ was going to know I'd been _lying_ to him for the past weeks?" Chris said enunciating several of the words.

Harry shook his head puzzled. "No," he paused, pieces clicking together. "Hang on, is that what he's been upset about? The detentions and you not telling him?"

Chris paused mouth open as if he was going to say something. He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said nodding. "This is _all_ about the detentions."

Harry frowned unsure at the other's tone. He wasn't sure if Chris was being sarcastic or genuine-but-annoyed-at-his-lack-of-understanding. Either one was possible.

Chris seemed to deflate running his hands through his hair once more. He glanced up and down the corridor like he was looking for someone or something. Harry followed his gaze seeing nothing that caught his eye. Chris fidgeted gnawing at his bottom lip.

"Are you," Harry paused, "okay?"

Chris snapped his attention back to Harry nodding. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. I'm fine." He stared down the corridor again. "I'm always fine," he said absently.

Harry chewed his own lip. It was rather obvious that Chris wasn't fine. Not entirely at least. But it really wasn't his place to pry. He wasn't close to the American. He hadn't known him for that long. It really wasn't any of his business.

"You know, I—"

"See you around, Harry," Chris said suddenly. He took off down the corridor, quickly becoming lost in the throng of students filing in.

Harry swallowed his words watching Chris leave. "Okay." Curiously, he looked behind him and was unsurprised to see Wyatt heading towards him. "Hello, Wyatt. We were wondering where you were."

Wyatt shrugged and held his book out. "I didn't feel like eating. Found this in the common room though. You need it?"

Harry sighed in relief taking the book. "Yeah. Thanks. Now I don't have to walk up all those stairs."

Wyatt just shrugged again and fell in step with Harry as the two headed to class. Harry watched him from the corner of his eye, internally fighting the epic battle of trying to decide whether or not to talk to the other boy about the elephant in the room.

In the end he decided he'd taken the plunge so many other times, why stop now?

"So, er, what's up with, erm, you and Chris?"

Wyatt glanced at him like he'd suddenly grown a second head, and Harry actually had to stop himself from raising a hand to check. After all, stranger things had happened.

"What?" Wyatt said. "Nothing."

Someone was _ignoring _the elephant in the room. Actually two someones. One way ahead of him and one right beside him. Well, Wyatt was ignoring, Chris was avoiding.

"Right," he agreed. "That's why he's avoiding you, and you look like you want to castrate someone."

Wyatt scowled.

"Why are you so mad about the detentions?" Harry asked.

Wyatt took about a million and a half years to answer, but he finally did. "It's not just about the detentions. Not really about the detentions at all."

So it had been sarcasm then. Damn it, Chris.

"What is it about then? If not the detentions?"

Another glance from the corner of Wyatt's eyes, then, "Chris has…problems he needs to work out. I want to help but he's being a stubborn ass."

Harry actually stopped reaching out a hand to halt Wyatt as well. Look at him, going all counselor. Hermione would be so proud. "Did it ever occur to you that he doesn't want your help?"

Wyatt scowled. "He's flat out told me that. But like I said he's a stubborn ass who happens to _need_ my help, even if he doesn't want it."

"What makes you think that?"

"I don't think. I _know_. And because he's my brother," Wyatt snapped. "Come on. We'll be late for class."

"No. Just…wait a second. Maybe Chris doesn't need your help. Maybe you just _think_ he needs your help."

Harry himself stopped a moment to digest that wondering where the words had sprung from. Probably his own evaluations about his own feelings in response to everyone suddenly thinking _he _needed help of some sort. Because, no, Hermione and Ron, he did not need to talk about anything. In essence, if he understood the situation right, he felt he could identify with Chris completely.

Wyatt for his part simply leveled the Chosen One with an intense stare and crossed his arms. Harry decided Wyatt could make quite the intimidating picture when he wanted.

"What?" Wyatt bit the word off sharply as if he didn't want to spend any more time than absolutely necessary to pronounce it.

Harry chewed his lip. "What I meant to say was…" he paused. Actually he didn't know. He'd meant exactly what he'd said, only it should have been delivered in a more…tactful manner. "What I meant was, er, well, did you, erm, think of maybe why Chris doesn't, er, want your help?"

Wyatt glared at him a short moment before turning and all but stalking away. He tossed a look over his shoulder as Harry followed, the expression holding a similarity to the calculating visage Harry had observed many a times on Chris's face. Right now, despite the many differences in their surface appearances and personalities, the two showed a remarkable likeness.

"Of course I did," Wyatt muttered, "It's why I tried to talk to him. A lot actually. But he doesn't listen and every time I try to bring it up our 'talk' escalates and he gets angry and then I get frustrated and, and…" Wyatt huffed waving his hands around aggravated.

"You end up avoiding each other for days," Harry finished dryly as he halted outside the door to the classroom. Wyatt shot him a dark look. "Can I offer a bit of advice?"

Wyatt arched his eyebrows. "You didn't ask before. Why start now?"

Harry shrugged and pushed the door open. "Just let him be a bit, Wyatt."

†††

Chris was out of the classroom almost before the bell rang to signal class change wanting to put as much distance between himself and his brother as possible. The intense staring from Wyatt all period had tipped him off that whatever issues Wyatt had had, he was working through them. Judging from the sidelong glances a certain dark haired wizard kept sending his brother, Chris guessed Harry was to blame for Wyatt suddenly leaping ahead in his normal process of dealing. Now that Wyatt's anger was alleviating he'd be thinking more reasonably. Which meant that before long he would be seeking Chris out to apologize and probably try to talk again. Chris didn't want that.

He didn't want an apology. While part of him was confused by that the other part was readily admitting that he didn't really deserve one. Neither Wyatt nor he did. They were both at fault here, not that he'd ever admit it out loud. And he was in no mood to talk to his brother about anything more involved than what kind of eggs were for breakfast—scrambled or fried? Oh sunny side up? Lovely.

He slowed as he approached a crowd of students stopping in the corridor. Stretching on his tip toes he tried to see what was keeping everything held up not for the first time cursing his lack of luck in the height department. He wasn't a shrimp, but being a little under average wasn't much help in this situation either. Muffled voices were echoing back in the corridor indiscernible but audible nonetheless.

A familiar dark head caught his attention next to a curly redhead. Chris moved towards Cho already feeling the slight lessening of tension he had earlier. "Hey," he said.

She jumped slightly then turned around smiling as she saw him. "Hi. Are you…stalking me now?" she asked cocking her head to the side slightly. The redhead eyed him openly and Chris cast only a fleeting glance at her before returning his full attention to Cho.

Chris grinned shaking his head. "Nope. I'm simply tracking your every move with an ulterior motive. It's completely different from stalking."

"Really?" the redhead said dragging the word out. "How so?"

"Well it's less threatening and it's eight words instead of one which makes it that much more complicating," Chris explained only briefly glancing at the redhead. "You know what's going on?" he asked inclining his head to gesture down the hall.

Cho shook her head. "I have no idea what's going on. I just hear shouting."

Chris stretched again, trying fruitlessly to peer of the sea of heads in front of him. "You can't get through?"

She shook her head again. "No. People just won't move."

Chris nodded and shrugged his bag up higher on his shoulder letting his expression settle into one of curiosity and determination. He held a hand out to Cho. "Come on."

"What?" she said glancing quickly at her redheaded friend. But she took his hand. He led her towards the back of the crowd. Cho grabbed the redhead's wrist dragging the other girl with them.

"What are you doing?"

Chris smirked at her over his shoulder. "Teaching you how to be an American." He reached out gently but firmly grabbing the nearest person's shoulder and pushing them out of the way. "Excuse me. Pardon me. All righty people if you could just _move,_ please. Get outta my way. Muevan, por favor. Move it. 'cuse me. Perdóname"

He kept up a litany of phrases as he shoved and elbowed people out of his way earning more than a couple dirty looks. He kept Cho close behind him, pulling her through the massive pool of people. As they neared the front he could make out the voices clearly.

The shrill tone of Umbridge was unmistakable and completely predictable. The harsh replies from McGonagall…not so much. Chris was shocked to see the normally well composed, downright regal, woman arguing with the squat, pink toad.

Umbridge stepped lightly up onto the first step in the staircase in a fruitless attempt to make herself eyelevel with McGonagall. In order to actually achieve that she would have to go up at least three steps. If not more.

"Pardon me, professor," she said, tone sickeningly sweet almost to the point of making Chris feel physically nauseous, "but what exactly are you insinuating?"

Chris halted just inside the ring of the closest students quickly absorbing the scene before him. Cho released his hand instead grasping the fabric of his robe by his elbow as she leaned in to whisper, "What is she talking about?"

Chris shook his head and shrugged. Her guess was as good as his.

McGonagall jutted her chin up in the way she had of looking superior whenever she knew she was right and the other person was being intentionally obtuse. "I am merely requesting that when it comes to my students you conform to the prescribed disciplinary practices," she stated evenly clasping her hands at her middle and leveling Umbridge with a poised stare.

Chris narrowed his eyes. They couldn't possibly be discussing what he thought they were.

Umbridge chuckled, more of a giggle due to its girlish quality. "So silly of me, but it sounds as if you're questioning my authority in my own classroom…_Minerva_," she said taking another two steps up the stairs so she was staring down at the tall professor. She smiled and clapped her hands together slightly as though the fact that she was now looking down on McGonagall settled the argument.

McGonagall returned her own thin grimace of a smile. "Not at all, _Dolores_," she said taking her own two steps up and looking down distastefully on the squat woman, "merely your medieval methods."

Ah, they probably were discussing exactly what he was thinking.

This was probably bad.

Probably?

Most defiantly.

Not good anyway.

"I am sorry, dear," Umbridge said.

Dear God, Chris hated liars. She wasn't sorry in the least.

"But to question my practices is to question the Ministry…and by extension, the minister himself," Umbridge announced sounding personally affronted and turning to address the students gathered. "Now, I am a tolerant woman…but the one thing I will not stand for is _disloyalty_."

McGonagall actually looked slightly surprised. "Disloyalty?" she repeated as if the very idea was outrageous. Which it was. At least from a certain perspective. Namely anyone's but Umbridge's or Fudge's.

Umbridge puffed up her chest sucking in a deep breath. "Things at Hogwarts are far worse than I feared. Cornelius will want to take immediate action."

The students gathered broke out into an immediate shouting of questions, the swell of noise almost unbearable.

"Oh shit," Chris muttered.

Cho looked at him worried. "What? What does she mean?"

Chris sighed looking around at the other students and McGonagall standing slack jawed on the stairs probably frozen in shock of the sheer impudence of the ministry woman.

"It means," Chris said, "that Hogwarts is about to become the Ministry's bitch."

†††

"Which one is that now? Forty seven? Sixty eight?"

Harry sighed, "I dunno, Ron. Honestly, I've lost count."

Wyatt glanced at the two, Harry picking at his food while Ron ate as heartily as ever speaking around the food crammed in his mouth. Personally, Wyatt had to agree with Harry. He'd lost count too. All he knew was that there was at least twenty three. That was when he stopped counting.

Since being declared, or rather declaring herself, as the _"High Inquisitor", _Umbridge had gone on a crusade to, having already "revolutionized the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts", at least in her own mind, "address the seriously falling standards at Hogwarts School."

And in order to do that, she invented her own laws called "Educational Decrees" to do whatever she wanted. Decrees that ran the school like a dictatorship.

"Did you hear," Hermione chimed in, "that she's going to be evaluating the professors to see if they qualify for the Ministry criteria to teach?"

Harry and Ron shook their heads. "No. How's she going to do that?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe supervise the classes or something. Interview the professors."

Ron chuckled. "That could take awhile."

Harry frowned and Hermione's countenance darkened. "I know. I think she plans on being around for quite a long time unfortunately." She sighed taking one last bite from her plate before standing. "Come on. We'll all be late if we don't get moving."

Wyatt pushed his own plate back leaning down to pick up his bag and followed the three wizards from the Great Hall. He couldn't help glancing across the hall to the Slytherin table but didn't catch sight of his brother. Chris had been full out avoiding him since this morning, and Wyatt wasn't entirely sure as to why.

As they left the hall Hermione went left to her next class while he, Harry, and Ron went right heading to the North Tower. Wyatt trailed a step behind the two wizards listening to their conversation but not participating.

"You just watch, mate," Ron said as they tromped up the seemingly never-ending stairs, "Umbridge will be supervising class today. That'd be our luck."

Harry shook his head. "Don't say that. You know what will happen if you say that."

"Sorry, mate, already said it."

Harry sighed climbing the ladder up to the classroom closely followed by Ron. Wyatt made to climb up himself puzzled at the sound of a slight scuffle. Ron stepped backwards almost crushing Wyatt's fingers and the blonde shoved at his ankle before hauling himself through the trap door.

"What?" he asked as Harry shoved an elbow in Ron's stomach hissing:

"See? I told you. I told you not to say it."

Wyatt drew his eyebrows together in confusion before catching sight of a plump pink covered woman sitting beside Professor Trelawney.

Only one thought could sum up what he felt. Aw crap.

He swept his gaze across the room, settling on the form of his brother lounging in his seat at a two person table. Wyatt hurried across the room not so subtly shoving a dark-haired girl away from the second chair before claiming it as his own. The girl scowled at his blatant show of rudeness before glancing at Chris. Chris merely raised an eyebrow at her and gave a slight shrug causing the girl to huff when neither he nor Wyatt made any move to apologize for Wyatt's behavior. She glowered stalking to a table a few feet away. Wyatt ignored her staring instead at his brother. Chris followed the girl with his gaze a moment before leveling Wyatt with a steady look.

Wyatt remained silent recognizing in Chris's expression that he neither wanted an apology or had any intention of offering one of his own. If Wyatt were completely honest with himself, and he found it hard to be at times, then he really didn't deserve an apology.

At length Chris gave a slight nod which Wyatt readily returned seeing it for what it was: a sign of truce.

Wyatt sighed relaxing in his seat. "So who is she?" he asked inclining his head in the direction the girl had walked. Chris glanced over at the girl's table and shook his head with a small grin.

"Parvati."

Wyatt blinked. "Bless you."

Chris arched an eyebrow then chuckled, and Wyatt let himself smile glad he'd gotten Chris to laugh.

"Indeed," he said.

"So what was her problem?" Wyatt said.

"I believe she thinks you stole her seat," Chris replied.

Wyatt frowned puzzled. "Why would she think that? I got here first," he said petulantly.

"Probably because she asked me earlier if she could sit with me during class," Chris said.

Wyatt nodded. "And what did you say?"

Chris shrugged but the familiar spark of mischief danced in his expression. "I told her that as far as I knew we were in a free country so she could sit wherever she damn well pleased."

Wyatt nodded again, rocking his chair back and looked over at Parvati's table. "I think she took it as a yes."

"Well it wasn't a no." Chris started digging through his bag clearly only half paying attention to what Wyatt was saying.

"She's kinda cute."

"I would use the term exotic myself," Chris said absently pulling out his textbook. "She doesn't fit the stereotypical cute description."

Wyatt grinned drumming his fingers on the table. "I think she likes you."

Chris nodded thumbing through his book. "I'm inclined to agree with you on that thought."

"You should ask her out."

Chris froze, book falling shut with a thud. "What?" he asked, face scrunching in distaste for the idea. "No. Ugh, just no."

"Why?" Wyatt said laughing. "You just said you thought she was exotic, which I happen to know you like. She likes you, and you like her, so dayenu."

Chris scowled then winced shaking his head. "No. There is no '_dayenu_'. Not now, not with her, or, or anyone else right now for that matter."

"Why not?" Wyatt said grinning. "What's the problem? Come on, live a little."

"Well, not that it's any of your business, but I'll do my living my way and it won't be including her," Chris snapped, blushing slightly and slouching in his seat.

Wyatt raised his eyebrows. "Wait, so there is a girl here you actually like?"

Chris opened his mouth then closed it, pointing a finger at Wyatt. "None of your business."

"Oh, come on, Chris, you can tell—"

"Shush."

"No, really, I swear—"

"Wyatt, shut up," Chris demanded dragging a finger across his throat in a 'you're dead' gesture.

"Who is it?"

Chris glared at him and jerked his head subtly to the right. Wyatt swallowed, realizing for the first time how quite the room had gotten.

"_Ahem, ahem_"

He slowly peeked over his shoulder wanting to hide when he saw Umbridge haughtily standing over him and the rest of the class staring at him.

"Are you two quite finished with your conversation?" she asked sweetly. "I'm sure the rest of us would like to get on with class."

Wyatt saw Ron snort behind her but forced himself to nod anyway. "Uh, Yeah. Sure."

"Very good," Umbridge said clapping her hands. "Well, well, then Professor. Let's get started."

She waddled across the room, somehow squeezing her rather robust frame through the small spaces between tables without knocking them all over and settled herself comfortably in a large plush chair. She pulled out a pink notebook and a quill with a large, fluffy, pink feather and looked expectantly at Professor Trelawney.

The big-eyed professor appeared terrified but turned towards her students and began a stuttering lecture on the use and importance of Rune Stones. As she stumbled her way over her words, Umbridge sat behind her, beady little eyes darting around the room, occasionally scratching on her notepad and adopting a permanent frown.

Once Trelawney set the students loose to practice with the runes at each table, Umbridge called her over to answer a few questions. Trelawney nervously perched herself on a chair across from Umbridge looking like she expected to be executed.

Wyatt peered over wishing he could hear the conversation then looked slyly at Chris.

Chris looked up from the rune stones he had cast and frowned. "What?" he asked guardedly.

Wyatt inclined his head to the professors. "What are they saying?"

Chris arched an eyebrow. "If you can't hear them what makes you think I can?"

Wyatt just smirked at him raising an eyebrow of his own. Chris got the message.

"Oh no. No," he whispered leaning forward. "It's against my rules."

"Come on, Chris, they're your rules. You can break them if you want."

"What would the purpose of having them be then?" Chris retorted.

"Whatever. Do it on Umbridge. We don't like her anyway," Wyatt said.

"Wyatt."

"Chris."

Chris scowled. "Fine." He sighed directing his gaze at Umbridge and squinting a bit in focus.

Wyatt grinned at his success and eagerly leaned forward. "What are they talking about?"

"Umbridge is asking her background questions. How long has she worked here? How long has she been a seer? How long has she taught this class specifically? What are her qualifications? Has she ever given any notable prophecies? Which one?" Chris cocked his head in the way Wyatt knew meant he'd heard something interesting. "She gave one about Harry."

"Really?" Wyatt said. "What was it?"

Chris shook his head. "Have you given any others? Could you please predict something for me? No, it doesn't work that way. I'm sorry?"

Suddenly the conversation was loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Not even one teensy little prophecy?" Umbridge simpered standing up.

Trelawney just gaped at her, eyes wider than ever behind her enormous glasses.

Umbridge sighed scribbling a note down. "Pity." She turned beginning to leave the room.

Trelawney all but launched herself from her seat. "No, wait," she cried reaching out and giving a blank stare. "Wait, no. I think I do see something. Yes, I do. Something dark. You…you are in grave danger," she finished solemnly.

Umbridge blinked. "Lovely." She made another note, then left the class room.

The feeling of relief was almost palpable, and Trelawney sank back into her seat covering her face with her hands and moaning. Parvati and another girl Wyatt didn't know ran over almost instantly to comfort her.

"That doesn't seem to have gone too well," Wyatt remarked.

Chris nodded slowly watching the two girls and the professor through narrowed eyes. "No. No it did not."

"What do you think gonna happen with Umbridge and all?"

Chris swept his gaze back to Wyatt and bit his lower lip. "Nothing good."

Wyatt sighed. "Is that your intuition or your deductive reasoning talking?"

"Both," Chris said.

"So what do we do about it?"

"Nothing. We continue doing what we're supposed to do. Play student. Protect Harry. That's all we can do."

†††

"Well they're all chummy again," Ron remarked.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"The Matthews. They're actually speaking to each other."

"It's really none of our business, Ronald," Hermione said. "So stop staring."

Harry followed Ron's gaze and indeed found Chris and Wyatt engrossed in a deep conversation while the blonde wolfed down his dinner and Chris picked at his. They were sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table, most of the red and gold house seemingly unperturbed to have a Slytherin at their table.

As Harry watched Wyatt said something that made Chris scowl angrily and shake his head. He said something back and Wyatt seemed to consider it before replying and raising a hand in a helpless motion. Chris pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture of exasperation. Neither brother looked particularly happy, but neither one seemed mad at the other either. Not like before when they had been ready to rip one another apart.

"So, anyway, did you guys hear?" Ron asked. "Umbridge supervised Snape today. I'm sort of sad to have missed it."

Harry agreed with him. It would have been worth several detentions with Malfoy to have seen Snape be observed by Umbridge.

"Oh, gosh, Ron, we have to go," Hermione said suddenly rushing to push all her books back in her bag.

"Go?" Ron asked through a mouthful of food. "Go where?"

Harry frowned in puzzlement too looking at Hermione questioningly.

"Prefect meeting, remember?" Hermione answered. "I'm sorry, Harry. We'll see you in class."

Harry had to force a smile on his face but he managed though Hermione didn't look fully convinced. "It's fine."

She was still looking pensive as she dragged Ron out of the hall, and Harry held the false smile on until they vanished from view. Letting a melancholy expression wash over him and peered around the hall wondering what he was supposed to do now. Miraculously, he didn't have a ton of homework waiting for him and he had little desire to do the miniscule amount he did have anyway.

He contemplated his options as he quickly finished his meal. He couldn't hang out with Ron and Hermione which is what he almost always did. Hagrid still had yet to return so he couldn't go visit him. He wasn't particularly close to anyone else at the school. He supposed he could try to find Fred or George or even Ginny, but he didn't really feel like being in their company right now. Plus he was sure none of them would appreciate his current sour mood that much.

He thought of joining Wyatt and Chris, but when he glanced back to where the brothers had been sitting only their empty seats remained and he really didn't feel like trying to track them down.

He finally settled on taking a walk, deciding that he would at least get some fresh air.

The air outside was crisp, just on the warm side of cold, offering a refreshing burst of freshness. He burrowed his hands in his coat pockets setting off in no particular direction across the grounds.

He lost himself in his thoughts and the mindless action of walking. Step. Step. Step. Each step doing a little more to numb the anger inside. Not that he even knew what he was angry about, but since returning to Hogwarts he'd been angry at one thing or another almost constantly.

He stopped by the edge of the lake slowly taking a seat on a log and staring out across the rippling water that seemed almost in sync with is fluctuating emotions.

When he wasn't wallowing in the fact that Dumbledore was ignoring him he was missing Hagrid and Sirius terribly. And when he wasn't doing that he was feeling abandoned by Hermione and Ron as they went off gallivanting on their Prefect duties leaving him to be scorned by the rest of the school. It depressed him, thinking that now, in spite of being back at Hogwarts he felt more alone than ever.

He didn't know how long he sat there, lulled into a semblance of peace with the gentle lapping of water at the shore line as the sun continued on its journey down, dipping behind the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. So lost in thought was he that he didn't even notice when someone took a seat next to him until they spoke.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Harry jumped hand reaching for his wand before he registered who it was. He huffed, then, "Bloody hell, Chris. Don't do that."

Chris just grinned impishly and brushed his hair from his eyes. "Do what?"

Harry scowled a moment but laughed. "That, that sneaking up on people thing you love to do."

Chris smirked. "I didn't have to sneak up on you. You were in your own little world. I walked right up and sat down and you remained utterly oblivious."

Harry smiled. "Yeah? Well I was lost in thought."

"No shit, Sherlock. You were dead to the land of the aware. So I repeat, penny for your thoughts?" Chris asked leaning back against the upright roots on the end of the log somehow looking utterly comfortable pressed up to the hard wood.

Harry shook his head slightly. "My thoughts aren't the most pleasant right now. You don't want to hear them, honest."

"Really?" Chris said arching an eyebrow with a knowing expression. "If you say so, I'll take your word for it."

They sat in silence a few minutes each simply watching the continual to and fro motion of the water lapping at the ground a few feet from them. Harry glanced over at Chris. The American was staring out across the lake an almost vacant expression on his face. It occurred to Harry then that Chris probably wasn't there just by chance and had mostly likely been in search of the same thing he had been.

"What about you?" Harry asked.

Chris looked over. "What about me?"

"Penny for your thoughts?" Harry said.

"Only a penny? Cheap bastard. My thoughts are worth so much more," Chris quipped grinning.

Harry couldn't help the smile that spread across his own face; Chris's grin was damn infectious. "Oh really? How much are they then?"

"Depends on how valuable they are to you," Chris said smirking.

"If you don't want to tell me what's wrong that's fine," said Harry.

Chris's amused expression faded immediately. "Who said anything's wrong?"

"Well," Harry started slowly gauging Chris's reaction. "Everything with Wyatt seemed better in Divination then you guys were arguing at dinner and now you're wandering around the lake when most people are enjoying their evening."

"So are you," Chris pointed out.

"True, but I admitted I had a problem; just that I'm not in a sharing mood," Harry said.

Chris scowled sitting up and slouching into his coat. "And what makes you think I am?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Nothing. Sorry. I just thought…" He trailed off shrugging and turning back to the water.

Chris was quite for a bit before speaking again. "We weren't arguing. I mean we were but not with each other exactly."

"So, you guys settled the whole lying and detention thing?" Harry asked.

Chris sent him a sidelong look and shrugged. "Not exactly. More like we both agreed to ignore the issue for now. Called a truce."

"A truce?"

"Yep. I can be difficult sometimes and so can he so we both figured out a long time ago that it was easier to call a truce at times until we were ready to resolve the issue rather than remain furious at each other the whole time," Chris explained.

Harry nodded even though the idea didn't really make that much sense. Ignoring problems wasn't a conducive way to solve them, but it wasn't his place to question how Chris and Wyatt handled their disagreements. "So what are you doing out here?"

Chris laughed slightly and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm…escaping my overbearing brother. He's been driving me crazy since Divination."

"Why?" Harry said.

Chris shook his head grinning. "He thinks I should ask Parvati out."

Harry stared a moment before laughing. "Really? I went the Yule Ball with her last year."

"Oh yeah?" Chris said resuming his reclined position on the log and cocking his head at Harry. "She as nice as she comes off as being?"

"I guess so," Harry said. "I wouldn't really know. You like her?"

"No," Chris answered promptly. "Not that way at any rate. Why wouldn't you really know?"

"Well, she was my date to the ball but the girl I really wanted to go with went with someone else so I was more concerned with her than Parvati," Harry said smiling slightly at the memory.

"Who was the other girl?"

Harry hesitated a moment then sighed. "Cho Chang. She's a sixth year in Ravenclaw."

"Really? Cho? Huh."

"You know her?"

Chris nodded. "Yeah…ran her over in the hall."

"Ran her over? How nice of you," Harry commented. "So why is Wyatt intent on you asking Parvati out?"

Chris sighed wrinkling his nose up delicately. "He thinks I need a girlfriend. Been bugging me all day."

"Ah, and you don't agree?" Harry asked teasingly. The disagreement at dinner made sense now. The Matthews had been arguing, but it had only been brotherly in nature, what with their 'truce' for the real problem.

Chris opened his mouth to reply and shut it abruptly looking away. His expression clouded gaining a haunted appearance as he stared at the water. He drew his legs up resting his arms on his knee and picking at his coat cuffs. "Nah, not so much," he said quietly. He gave a short laugh that was borderline mirthless. "I'm not really into the whole relationship thing lately."

Harry frowned recalling what Wyatt had said about Chris having 'problems'. He couldn't help but wondering what Wyatt had meant by that but wasn't sure how to go about asking. "Oh. Bad breakup?" he questioned carefully.

Chris glanced at him quickly then back at the water. "Something like that," he muttered.

Harry didn't pry and Chris quickly moved on, directing the conversation away from himself.

"So I told you mine, you tell me yours?" he asked offering Harry a weak smile.

Harry frowned not at all sure he was willing to divulge his thoughts but Chris had been honest with him for the most part. "They're really not all that important."

Chris shot him that knowing look he had that never failed to make Harry slightly uncomfortable. "Have anything to do with your MIA minions?"

"My MIA what?"

"Hermione and Ron."

Harry blinked. "Oh, er, I guess. Not all but some. They're not my minions, there're friends."

Chris waved his hand dismissively. "Tomato tomahto.* Don't you have any other friends around here?"

Harry frowned, offended before realizing what Chris was asking in innocent curiosity. "No," he admitted. "Not really. At least not close ones."

"Why not?" said Chris. "You're the 'Chosen One' aren't you? That sounds like something naïve kids would flock to."

"Most think I'm an attention seeking liar," Harry said shrugging.

"Oh. Well I bet that does wonders for your social status."

Harry smiled. "Not so much. You honestly telling me you haven't heard the rumors?"

Chris chuckled and shook his head. "I don't put much stock in school gossip. I find it derogatory, inconsequential, and, most of the time, hideously misinformed."

"How true," Harry agreed.

"Why do they think you're a liar? Is it about the Voldemort thing last year?"

Harry nodded, once again noting that Chris used Voldemort's name and not the euphemism, and not really wanting to discuss it.

Chris cleared his throat. "So that kid, the one who died, Cedric? Was he your friend?"

Harry sucked in a deep breath determinedly staring only at the water and cursing Chris's apparent ability to dive right to the heart of each of his issues. "I guess so. Sort of, in a way, but not really."

Chris made a slight noise of affirmation. "Still hurts though?" he asked softly.

Harry sighed heavily. "You have no idea," he said, though when he glanced at Chris the expression on the American's face had him wondering if, just maybe, Chris did.

* * *

***I'm not sure if this is a regional phrase or not but for anyone who is confused, when Chris says "Tomato tomahto" he is referring to the differnt ways you can pronunce the word "tuh-mey-toh tuh-mah-toh" meaning that, for his purposes there, "minions" and "friends" were the same. **


	21. Of Dreams and American Oddities

**Chapter Eighteen: Of Dreams and American Oddities **

**If anyone is still here reading this…I'd be freaking amazed…seriously…if you're still reading this and are, like, freaking thrilled, OH MY GOD IT'S FINALLY UPDATED!, then you are freaking awesome. That's all I have to say. **

**Charmedfan: To address your question, when Paige says, "You mean he thought Chris was…eww," she was referring to Dumbledore thinking that Chris His Student was the son of Chris The Whitelighter. Meaning Chris was the son of…Chris. Which would be weird if Dumbledore knew they were the same person like Paige. It would mean that Chris and Piper had…well, in the words of Paige, "Eww."**

* * *

Harry was unsure how long they had sat out by the lake in silence though he knew it had been a good deal after the sun had dipped below the trees in the Forbidden Forest. When he finally looked back over at his company, he had been greeted with the sight of the slumbering American nestled comfortably against the roots of the log curled in on himself. Even sleeping Chris still appeared exhausted and it was obvious he hadn't been sleeping well at all. Hadn't since he'd arrived really and, though Harry had first attributed it to time difference, he wondered now if perhaps Chris was suffering from the same nightly issue he was.

At length Harry had gently shaken the sleeping brunette awake suggesting they head back to the castle and the two had parted ways at the Grand Staircase Harry heading up and Chris heading down.

The look Chris had given him nagged him the next few days although Chris said no more on the subject, not even treading near it despite Harry's subtle attempts to steer conversation to their time at the lakeside. Chris made no mention of it whatsoever, however Harry did notice he showed up a lot more out of nowhere whenever Ron and Hermione were off on Prefect duties or elsewhere and Harry was feeling lonely. Which was comforting although a little hazardous to his health every time the American scared the bloody hell out of him. Someday Chris was going to give him a heart attack.

Today they were outside again at a different spot around the lake enjoying the unusually warm and sunny day. Chris was stretched languidly out on a large boulder soaking in the sun while Harry sat on the edge of the rock next to Chris's feet staring out across the lake.

Harry frowned suddenly glancing over at the motionless Slytherin. "Are you…purring?" he asked disbelievingly, not certain what to call the sounds Chris was making.

Chris grinned lazily peering at him through slightly open eyes. "Dude, it's _warm_," he said as if it explained everything.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, and so you're _purring_?"

"I'm not _purring_. I'm humming in pleasure," Chris murmured smiling contentedly.

"Ron's right. You are weird. You're like a cat," Harry muttered.

"Well my one cousin does call me Kitty."

"Is it because you purr?" Harry asked solemnly.

"No," Chris sneered, "it's because, according to her and Wyatt, I always land on my feet."

Harry shook his head muttering about American oddities and how he'd love to test that theory. "So where is Wyatt today?" he asked louder.

"Chatting up some blonde bimbo in the Great Hall," Chris said sighing. He shifted, stretching lightly then resuming his passive position. "I thought it best to leave before my brain cells died from lack of intelligent conversation."

"Oh so that's why you're here? To escape unintelligent conversation?"

"Yep. Plus I had to take advantage of this frickin' awesome sunshine," Chris drawled.

Harry shook his head grumbling about how strange the American was and silently contemplating the question of _why_ he was there. Surely there were other people Chris would want to spend time with besides him, as he certainly wasn't the best of company most of the time. And Chris certainly wasn't hurting for people to hang around with like he was. Chris wasn't sociable on many levels but people seemed to gravitate to him. It wasn't a big mystery as to why either. He and his brother both shared many of the qualities that the other students flocked around. Both were confident, sincere, good-looking, with a hint of mystery and lacking any bad reputation of being attention-seeking liars. The only difference was Wyatt seemed to like his admirers while Chris avoided his. Speaking of admirers…

"He still after you about Parvati?"

"Not really. He's dropped the idea for now. I think my continual contempt for the subject convinced him it would be hazardous to Parvati's mental health to deal with me." Chris sighed lightly and Harry could almost feel a shift in the air, anticipating the severity of his next comment. "You still mad at Dumbledore?"

"What?" Even slightly expected it threw him.

"Dumbledore. Why are you mad at him?"

Harry scowled and hunched his shoulders an irrational wave of irritation sweeping over him. What the bloody hell had made Chris ask that question?

"I'm not mad at him," Harry muttered reflexively. Okay, so that was a lie. But his anger towards Dumbledore was none of Chris's business. None. The American had no right asking him that sort of question.

"Ahuh," Chris said in that tone of voice he had that made it sound like he knew exactly what Harry was thinking. Harry shivered from the feeling of being laid bare, like an open book for Chris to read.

"I'm not," he insisted.

Chris sat up, drawing his legs towards himself to sit comfortably and leveling Harry with a soft, knowing look. "I didn't mean to pry. If you don't want to talk about it then don't. I just thought you seemed bothered lately and I thought maybe I could help."

Harry stifled a laugh that boarded too close to hysterical and shook his head at the absurd idea. Help. Why did everyone think he needed help? Did he look that pathetic? Did he come off as that mental?

He toyed with the idea briefly of telling Chris. Spilling everything. It'd feel good and he was pretty sure he wouldn't have to worry about Chris's reaction like he would with Hermione or worry about him completely not getting it like Ron.

"No one really understands," he found himself saying.

"Are you sure?" Chris's reply was immediate, almost like he'd been expecting Harry to say it.

"What it's like to be me," Harry elaborated certain Chris hadn't understood at first.

"I knew what you meant. And I think I can infer a little."

Harry laughed recalling others' efforts to try and comprehend what it was like to be the 'Chosen One' and the 'Boy Who Lived'. "Doubt it."

"Glad to see I have your faith," Chris said sardonically. He leaned forward propping his chin in his hand and eyeing Harry critically. "Let's see, you feel neglected in a sense. Parents dead, sent to live with an aunt and uncle who don't want you. Estranged from your true world until you came to school, you always feel slightly as if you're intruding on something that doesn't belong to you. Recently…you've found some family but even now you still feel like something's missing. But back to my earlier point, when you came to school, that's when things got really fun."

Harry snapped his neck to the side to stare at Chris. He'd never mentioned his family situation though he supposed it wasn't much of a stretch to figure it out if he talked to the right people. Chris just smirked at him and continued.

"First you find out you're a freak because you're a wizard. It's why even before you never fit in with the mor—muggle world. You were always different. Then you came here, a place filled with wizards, a place you hoped would be your paradise home, and you discovered you're still different. You're their hero, their _Chosen One_. You're famous but, still, you're an outcast. They fawn over you, practically worship you, but keep their distance. You're almost untouchable to them. Fearless, courageous, powerful, all these things they see you as being. They're in awe of you because you're not like them. They're afraid of you because you're not like them. And it irks you. How am I doin' so far?" Chris asked.

Harry just stared at him too bewildered to do any more.

"I'll take that as a 'I'm doing okay.' Moving on. It irks you because you wish they would see for what you are. Another wizard in training. Just a person like them. You want nothing more than to be normal but know you never can be. So you keep your distance and try to live up to all their ridiculous expectations all the while wanting to tell them to screw themselves and you boil inside letting everything simmer until you feel like you feel now, where one wrong move is likely to make you explode."

Harry's voice seemed to have left him, leaving him a gaping fish out of water. Chris wasn't smirking anymore, simply regarding him seriously. Everything he'd just said had hit nearly spot on and Harry couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"How did you…?"

Chris arched an eyebrow, the mischievous look he normally had returning. "Didn't I tell you? I'm psychic."

Harry rolled his eyes, something he found himself doing more and more as he spent time with Chris. "Funny," he said.

"It's true." Chris plastered an endearingly forgetful expression on his face looking embarrassed. "So silly of me. How could I have forgotten?" he asked adopting a mock British accent.

"Sure." Harry sighed shaking his head. "You're the first person who's really gotten it and you don't even really know me much."

Chris shrugged dropping his façade and allowing his American accent to once again sharply accentuate his words. "Sometimes it's the people who know you the least that see you the best. I'm free of preconceived paradigms. That and I'm good at reading people. It's kinda what I do."

"You _read_ people?"

"Yes."

"Anyone ever tell you you're really strange?" Harry asked.

"Lots of people. Anybody tell you you're really crabby lately?"

"Loads."

"Will you answer my first question now?"

Harry didn't reply instead watching the water ripple forward and back against the rocks below his feet. The familiar swirl of emotions flooded inside him, and he shifted away so he wouldn't have to see Chris, focusing on quelling his irritation.

"Golden Boy?"

Why was he mad at Dumbledore? Bloody hell, he didn't know, he just was. He hated that he was always irritable. He was pissed that Dumbledore was ignoring him. He felt excluded because he wasn't in with Ron and Hermione. Which of course just rerouted into more frustration. Harry interlocked his fingers turning his hands out to stare at his palms. His chest tightened as he thought about it all, his stomach souring and twisting in on itself. Why was he angry? Logically there was no reason. He had friends. He had Hogwarts. He even had Sirius, his godfather.

He let out a light breath trying to slow his racing thoughts. Hagrid was still gone. Hermione and Ron were Prefects leaving him alone as they moved up. Dumbledore couldn't even look at him. The Wizarding world thought he was a liar. Everyone in school avoided him. Voldemort was back. Cedric was dead.

Harry closed his eyes forcing the thoughts from his mind.

"Harry?" Chris's tone had changed, going from gently inquisitive to soft and imploring.

"No." Harry kept his answer short, unsure why he had even considered the possibility of telling Chris any of it. So Chris could _read_ him. So what? Harry barely knew him. Why _was_ he here? He braced himself for Chris's follow up questions.

"Okay."

Harry blinked. No prying? No 'Harry, really…rubbish, rubbish, rubbish'? No unwanted advice? No anything? "That's it?" he asked out loud turning to Chris surprised.

Chris arched an eyebrow and laughed softly. "I'm in no position to be judging you, Golden Boy. None at all."

"What do you mean by that?"

Chris shook his head grinning his infectious smile. "Uh uh. You keep your secrets and I'll keep mine."

"So you admit to having secrets?" Harry asked half-interestedly, meaning it as more rhetorical than anything.

Chris's grin faded slightly, and his tone was matter-of-fact when he replied. "Everyone has secrets, Harry."

"Everyone?" Harry said turning to face Chris head on.

"You, me, and Dupree. Gandalf, Chuck Norris, Draco, even Luna Lovegood."

Harry frowned wondering who Dupree and Chuck Norris was before refocusing. "You know Luna Lovegood?"

Chris chuckled. "I've met her. Weird blonde chick, wacko earrings, but sound of mind."

Harry raised his eyebrows, seriously doubting Chris's mental stability now. "Sound of mind?"

"Perhaps not on the surface," Chris admitted shrugging. "But where it counts, yes."

"So, if I told you my secrets would you tell me yours?" Harry asked going back to their earlier subject.

Chris cast him a sidelong glance, appraising him. "You aren't going to tell me."

Harry shook his head. "No. But if I did, would you?"

Chris frowned; pondering the question for a long moment then shook his head slowly. "No. Not all of them at least."

"Fair enough. You mind if I ask why?" Harry said.

Chris smiled sadly. "Some things are meant to be kept close to the heart. They're not for sharing no matter how much you might want to," he paused a moment then rose to his feet cuffing Harry lightly on the shoulder, "Come on, dude, we should get back to the castle."

Harry nodded, rising to his feet and following after the dark haired American, regarding him thoughtfully. And despite the cryptic way he had answered, Harry knew exactly what meant.

†††

The trek up to the castle was silent between the two boys as they worked their way up the hill from the expansive lake to the looming school, their footsteps completely hushed by the soft grass.

Moving around it was almost uncomfortably warm, and Chris found himself debating on whether or not to remove his coat despite how much he had been eagerly drinking in the heat only a few minutes earlier.

In the shade of the bridge, however, it was noticeably cooler so he left his coat on as they started across probably the longest bridge for walking in history. He cast his gaze to the side like he usually did, enjoying the near dizzying view far below.

He didn't realize Harry stopping until he ran into him. Chris stumbled back looking around for a reason to the sudden halt. "Whoa, what?" he asked following Harry's gaze to a large crowd gathered in front of the Hogwarts doors. He furrowed his brows. "What's goin' on?"

Harry shook his head slightly moving forward again at a faster pace. "Dunno."

Chris looked around, searching for a familiar face in the crowd and trying to see what was in the middle of the ring of people.

"Cho!" Harry called darting off the left. Chris followed immediately spotting the dark haired Asian girl. "What's going on?" Harry asked breathlessly.

Cho looked worried as she nibbled on her lower lip. "It's Professor Trelawney."

Chris sighed as the pieces clicked together almost instantly. "Bitch," he whispered turning around to peer through the crowd again.

"What?" Harry said clearly not making the connection Chris had. "Who?"

"Sixteen years I've lived and taught here. Hogwarts is my _home_. You can't do this," Trelawney wailed hysterically, sniffling into her handkerchief, surrounded by several large trunks.

Umbridge stood imperiously before her wearing a look of utmost satisfaction. "Actually," she said lifting her fat head a little, "I can."

Trelawney moaned again, burying her face dejectedly in her hands. Professor McGonagall gasped, appearing suddenly at the top of the stairs from the castle. She hurried down the steps to Trelawney, taking the distraught woman comfortingly in her arms. She shushed her fellow professor and turned to glare hatefully at Umbridge, eyes narrowing and lips pressing into a firm, thin line.

"Something you'd like to say?" Umbridge asked sweetly.

"Oh, there are several things I would like to say," McGonagall began angrily. Chris raised an eyebrow, anticipating several nasty sentences to follow, but McGonagall was cut off.

"Professor McGonagall, might I ask you to escort Sybil back inside?" Professor Dumbledore asked suddenly appearing, like the tall Gryffindor professor had earlier, at the top of the stairs.

McGonagall fell silent then nodded, turning her full attention to the Divination teacher. "Sybil, dear. This way." She waved her wand purposefully and all of the luggage floated up the steps ahead of the two women.

Trelawney grabbed Dumbledore's hands as she passed giving him a fervent thank you as McGonagall guided her into the school.

Umbridge drew herself up righteously. "Dumbledore, may I remind you that under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, as enacted by the minister—"

"You have the right to dismiss my teachers," Dumbledore interrupted quietly but powerfully. "You do not, however, have the authority to banish them from the grounds. That power remains with the Headmaster."

Umbridge regarded him shrewdly for a moment then smiled sinisterly. "For now," she declared. She drew her pathetic height up as far as she could and strode past the Headmaster disappearing through the doors.

The Headmaster was silent a minute before looking around at the gathered students as if just realizing they were there. "Don't you all have studying to do?" he asked in the same tone one might inquire about the weather.

The effect was instantaneous with a great majority of the students scattering on his words. Chris grunted as he was jostled from behind, a sharp elbow jabbing into his back. He spun around pushing the offending person off and ignoring their mumbled sorry. Cho looked around finally grabbing onto the red-haired friend Chris had seen her with earlier and giving him and Harry a quick wave goodbye as she and Flamehead disappeared into the crowd.

Harry…Harry was not where he was a second ago. Chris turned, trying and failing to locate the Chosen One.

"Professor!"

Harry's voice was audible over the now loudly talking throng of students.

"Professor! Professor Dumbledore! Professor!"

Chris finally spotted the wizard bounding up the steps and shoving his peers out of the way as he went. Chris darted after him pushing the other kids out of his path.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry shouted one last time before halting and looking utterly dejected as the other students filed around him in the corridor. Chris caught up and gingerly touched Harry's shoulder. Harry spun around, anger dancing across his features as he gestured pointedly at nothing in particular. "Why?" he demanded. "Why is he ignoring me?"

Chris shrugged, honestly having no clear idea as to why the old man was doing what he was. "I don't know. Most people I can read like books. Gandalf? Utter gibberish."

Harry ran his hands through his head letting loose a mirthless laugh. "Brilliant," he muttered darkly. "You know he's barely said a word to me since last year? Saw him at my hearing and he ignored me, he's been keeping things from me all summer, and now he won't even look at me!"

They were starting to attract odd and attentive looks. Chris punched Harry lightly in the arm. "Cool off, dude, for a sec, will ya? No yelling in hallways. You'll attract unwanted attention."

Harry glared at him but said nothing more, only crossing his arms and glowering.

Chris sighed then arched an eyebrow spotting a familiar bushy brown puff of hair paired with a shock of red. "Heads up, its your minions."

Hermione practically looked like she was seething. "Did you see that?" she hissed. Ron cast her a sideways look almost like he was scared of her. Chris stifled a grin at that as Harry replied with an affirmative to Hermione's question.

"I can't believe she actually tried to make Trelawney leave," Harry said shaking his head.

"I know," Ron said. "I mean she's a bloody terrible teacher, but—"

"That foul, evil, old gargoyle," Hermione fumed interrupting angrily. "We're not learning how to defend ourselves. We're not learning how to pass our OWLs. She's taking over the entire school!"

†††

Harry sat comfortably on his favorite chair in the deserted common room long after everyone else had retired to bed. His mind was simply too chaotic for sleeping, his thoughts rampant and restless.

Unable to sleep he had remained in his chair, aimlessly skimming over a discarded _Daily Prophet_ he'd found slightly intrigued by one article.

_Security has been and will remain the Ministry's top Priority._

_Furthermore, we have convincing evidence that these disappearances are the work of notorious mass murder Sirius Black._

"Harry."

Harry jumped at the sudden sound of his name looking over to the doorways to the dormitories then around the room for the source of the sound but he was still alone.

"Harry, down here."

Harry whipped back around to face the fire; utterly shocked to see his godfather's head nestled in among the flames. Nothing else. Just his head.

"Sirius," he breathed. He set aside the newspaper all but throwing himself down on the rug before the fireplace. "What are you doing here?" he asked unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Answering your letter," Sirius's head replied.

Harry nodded thinking back to the letter he'd sent weeks ago to his godfather explaining all about his feeling at being back to school and his worries of Umbridge as well as his ponderings of the two new Americans and his odd but growing friendship with a Slytherin.

"You said you were worried about Umbridge," Sirius continued. "What's she doing? Training you to kill half-breeds?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows confused but shook his head. "No, she's not letting us use magic at all."

Sirius's head moved like he was shrugging except he had no shoulders. "Well, I'm not surprised. Latest intelligence is that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat."

Harry scoffed settling himself cross-legged before the fire. "Combat? What does he think? That we're forming some sort of wizard army?"

"That's exactly what he thinks," Sirius said gravely. "That Dumbledore is assembling his own forces to take on the Ministry. He's becoming more paranoid by the minute." He paused, chewing on his lower lip. "The others wouldn't want me telling you this, Harry, but things aren't going at all well with the Order."

Harry frowned and leaned forward some as Sirius continued speaking.

"Fudge is blocking the truth at every turn and these disappearances are just how it started before. Voldemort is on the move. And the Order is just finding a lot of dead ends. Dumbledore's gone as far as to enlist some help from the Americas but even they're having little luck."

"Dumbledore got help from America?" Harry asked puzzled.

Sirius's head bobbled as he nodded. "Yes, and they…Someone's coming. I have to go. I'm sorry I can't be of more help. But for now, at least, it looks like you're on your own." And with that Sirius's head disappeared from the flames leaving Harry even more confused and conflicted than he had been.

†††

Harry remained in the common room the rest of the night, dozing on and off as he pondered what Sirius had told him. Wondered about how few people there really were working against Voldemort and all his followers as Fudge and the rest of the denying Wizarding world thwarted and hindered the Order at every opportunity. How likely was it that the Order could succeed at such an impossible feat? It was scary to think that Voldemort might actually win this time around, that the side of good could actually lose. But this wasn't a movie or a book. This was real life and as Chris had once said in one of their many conversations, the bad guys didn't always lose.

It was a terrifying reality and one that Harry finally fell into a fitful sleep thinking about. He dreamed a different dream that night. Not one of long, dark corridors and moving doors and glass spheres.

_Instead it was one of him standing outside Hogwarts, staring up at the large castle, as is soared proudly upward reaching as if to touch the sky. He was across the lake from the school, the water lapping gently at his feet as he stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Parts of the castle were obscured by the branches of the trees behind him. It was awe inspiring, the way everything was together with the castle, the water, and the moonlight caressing everything with its silver glow. _

_He jumped then, when someone spoke behind him._

"_It's a trap." _

_Harry spun around, mouth falling open in shock when he saw Chris leaning against one of the trunks, partially shrouded in shadow. _

"_What?" was all Harry could manage though a thousand words and questions were stampeding through his brain. _

"_It's a trap." Chris repeated stepping forward. His expression was earnest, eyes worried as he locked gazes with Harry. "Believe me. It's a trap." He seemed to be having trouble speaking, only managing to blurt out a few words at a time. _

"_What is? What's a trap?" _

"_Don't. Go. In that. Room." Chris bit out looking pained now. _

_Icy dread crawled up Harry's spine as Chris struggled to speak. Chris reached out, clutching at Harry's collar in a surprisingly strong grip. Harry grabbed his arms, trying to keep the smaller boy steady. _

"_Chris? What's going on?" _

_A rustling sound came from the trees and Harry looked around fearfully, a feeling impending doom filling him_

"_Trust me," Chris whispered. "Don't go in." _

Harry blinked; light blurring is sight for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the sun streaming in through the windows. He was still in the armchair he'd been sitting in last night and the realization brought to attention his aching back and neck from his awkward sleeping position.

Something rustled and he finally looked around to see Hermione and Ron sitting on the small couch adjacent to him staring vacantly at the paper he'd been reading last night and the article about the disappearances.

Hermione ran her finger along the words then said quietly without looking up, "He's really out there, isn't he?"

Harry didn't need her to elaborate on who He was. He sat up fully and nodded, unsure why she was asking like she was.

"We've got to be able to defend ourselves," she said, voice strengthening as she looked up and glanced between Ron and Harry. "And if Umbridge refuses to teach us how, we need someone who will."

Harry sighed scratching his head. "Good luck with that, Hermione."

"I've already thought about it," she said rushed. She bit her lip looking nervous and glanced at Ron. "We both have and we think," Ron kicked her foot slightly and Hermione glared at him before correcting herself, "I think I've come up with a solution."

Harry shook his head trying to decide if it was the remnants of the dream and sleep crowding his brain or if Hermione really wasn't making any sense. "Oh, really?"

"Yes," she said.

"Well, let's hear it then," Harry said after a moment of silence. Hermione glanced at Ron again then swallowed like she was gathering her courage.

"Harry."

Harry frowned. "What?"

Hermione smiled a bit. "No. You, Harry."

It took a moment for it to sink in but when it did he abruptly stood up in shock immediately discounting it. "No!"

Hermione jumped looking taken aback and Ron was startled.

"That's a terrible idea," Harry blurted. "What the bloody hell made you think of that?"

Hermione jutted her chin out a little like she always did when fighting for her point. "I think it's an excellent idea. You know a lot about the defense against the dark arts and you've lived through a lot of it. You know how it really is."

"Yes," Harry said. "And it's nothing like a classroom. None of you have any idea what it's really like. You don't know—"

"You're right," Hermione said standing to face him. "This is why it needs to be you." She regarded him carefully as he stared at her feeling all his reasons for saying no fading away. He didn't know what she saw in his expression but whatever it was convinced her that she had won the argument. She smiled slightly and walked away heading back up to the girls' dormitory.

Harry sighed and turned to Ron who held his hands up in surrender. "This is mad," Harry exclaimed. "Who'd want to be taught by me? I'm a nutter, remember?"

Ron smiled. "Look on the bright side, you can't be any worse than old toad face."

Harry rolled his eyes at his completely unhelpful friend. "Thanks, Ron."

Ron clapped his hand on Harry's shoulder saying with mock seriousness, "I'm here for you, mate."

* * *

**All right…I have nothing to say besides I'm frickin' sorry this took so freaking long to put up…college seriously…messing with my routine...and my life...but hey**

**Kay, so, really hope to have the next one up _WAY_ freaking faster…like soon…hopefully two weeks…that's my goal…and we're gonna see how it goes.**

**So…bye**


	22. Tosspot

**So…not the two weeks I was going for…but not as long as last time so I'm counting it as a win. :) **

**Can't remember if I wanted to say anything specifically about this chapter so I'm just gonna go ahead and post it.**

**Without further ado…**

**Oh…I suppose it's time I do this again:**

**Disclaimer: Me no own Harry Potter or Charmed. Me making no money. Me no use a beta reader. All mistakes are me proud property. Me no own…wait, I think that's it. **

**Okay, so here we go…**

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Tosspot**

"So, what's this town's name again?" Chris asked looking puzzled.

"Hogsmeade," Hermione said smiling.

The five of them, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Wyatt and Chris, were traipsing down the road to Hogsmeade for a little get away and a secret meeting. Hermione had invited the brothers to walk with them on their first trip down and neither Ron or Harry had protested, both quite welcoming the Americans, though a little reservedly on Ron's part with Chris. Apparently, associating _in_ class with a Slytherin was different than associating extensively with one _outside_ of class.

Harry hadn't flat out told Hermione or Ron about how much time he and Chris had been spending together, though he hadn't worked much to hide it either, and he was pretty sure Chris hadn't mentioned it as well. It wasn't that he was ashamed of spending time with a Slytherin; it was simply a matter of his not wanting to. It mollified some of his frustration to a point. Hermione and Ron had their Prefect duties and Harry had Chris. Okay, so when he thought about it that way it sounded rather weird and creepy, but when boiled down that was all there was to it.

"Hogs made what? English pigs must be a bit smarter than our American ones," Chris said.

Hermione laughed. "No. Hogsmeade."

Chris blocked his mouth with his hand, stage whispering to his brother loud enough to be heard. "Dude, I don't know about you but I don't think I want any mead that came from a hog."

Hermione laughed harder and Harry smiled as Wyatt gave his brother a completely lost look. Chris's grin faded as he stared at Wyatt. "You know, mead? Like the alcohol? Don't want any from a pig? No? Nevermind. You're an idiot. Completely hopeless," he muttered shoving his hands in his pockets.

Wyatt looked offended. "Hey! I am not an idiot. All the time," he added at a withering glare from Chris. "And I guess this time is one of those. But I'm not always stupid."

Chris rolled his eyes and punched his brother in the arm good-naturedly. "Lighten up, dude. You don't have to be smart. I've got enough for both of us."

Wyatt smirked. "You're right. That's because you got all the brain and I got all the good looks."

Chris sneered at him and soundly smacked the back of Wyatt's head before he could duck. "Asshole."

"Language," Wyatt admonished in a singsong voice.

"Shut up."

It was one of the most entertaining things, Harry mused, to watch the two Americans interact. They didn't act like Ron acted with his siblings, or how Fred acted with George. Where Fred and George seemed to inhabit the same wavelength and seamlessly fit together in everything they did, Wyatt and Chris clashed but blended at the same time. Where Fred and George were two sides of the same coin, Chris and Wyatt were two puzzle pieces that fit together to make a whole. What one lacked the other provided.

There was a sincerity between them, a dependency almost, that said without one the other would be destroyed. A closeness, a bond one only had with close sibling and something Harry would never experience no matter how intimate he got with his friends. It was odd, crushing feeling of revelation and Harry shook himself batting the reflective thoughts away to focus on what his friends were saying.

"So, who in the world decided to burden this poor, adorable little town with the name Hogsmeade?" Chris said staring out over the quaint little village spread before them.

"Well," Hermione replied, instantly launching into lecture mode. "I read it was founded over a thousand years ago, around the same time as Hogwarts actually, by the wizard Hengist of Woodcroft as he was fleeing persecution by Muggles. It's also the only all wizard town in Britain."

"Oh, well, that explains it," Chris muttered as Hermione continued to recite her knowledge. "Hengist, what a terrible name."

"Do you always talk like you're reading from a textbook?" Wyatt asked, interrupting her.

Hermione scoffed. "No, I—"

"Yes," Ron and Harry chorused, ignoring the glare Hermione shot them.

Hermione kept her mouth shut, allowing the silence to be filled with Ron and Wyatt talking back in forth with a few comments interspaced from Harry or Chris, as she led the way through the winding streets of the small village.

The made their way though the town rather quickly, giving the Americans a fast tour as the did so. Chris ended up having to physically drag Wyatt away from Zonko's Joke Shop complaining about it the entire time only to have Wyatt repay the favor in pulling Chris away from Tome's and Scrolls, which, according to Hermione as Harry and Ron had never been in there, was a rather spectacular bookshop.

"Who's supposed to be meeting us then?" Harry finally asked. Hermione hadn't told him much about the meeting she had arranged with other students to have him start teaching real defensive magic. In fact she had been rather evasive about the whole thing.

She shot him quick sidelong glance before waving her hand vaguely. "Just a couple of people," she said turning down another less traveled street. After a minute or two, a run down building emerged with a dirty, crooked sign hanging by the door depicting a hog's head.

"Lovely spot," Ron remarked.

Hermione shrugged a little. "Thought it would be safer off the beaten track."

Chris arched an eyebrow seeming slightly disturbed. "Safer? This place looks condemned. Are you sure they're even still in business?"

Hermione didn't answer as she strode ahead, cautiously pushing the door to the dingy little pub open.

The inside, if possible, looked even worse than the outside. The windows were large but so encrusted with grime barely any light shone through leaving the entire room in cast dark shadows. The air was smoky and smelled rank, cloaking the patrons in a cloud of concealment. Chris scuffed his foot on the dirt floor looking surprised and somewhat disgusted to find actual wood flooring beneath the filth.

"Lovely," he muttered leaning closer to Harry and Wyatt. "I feel like we're gonna be murdered by a serial killer or something."

Wyatt grinned while Harry stifled a laugh as Hermione glared at them and looked around more. There were several patrons sitting in various places, some along the bar others at separate tables. A few glanced up as the group entered but didn't seem to pay much attention before turning back to their drinks. The barkeep eyed them the longest as he continually wiped at a glass with a filthy rag that was probably depositing more dirt in the glasses than it was cleaning off.

Chris nudged him again gesturing at the barkeep. "Remind me to bring my own cup next time," he whispered so Hermione wouldn't hear.

They followed Hermione across the one-roomed pub, settling into a table in the corner. Harry looked around again, feeling exposed, like someone was watching them though no one seemed to be doing explicitly that.

"When are the others coming?" he asked tensely.

Hermione checked her watch. "Soon."

Harry rolled his eyes at her continued vagueness. "Fine. Chris and I will get drinks," he said.

Chris trailed after him up to the bar, seeming tense and glancing around like he was trying to watch everyone and everything at once. Harry turned his attention back to the bar as the bartender wandered over.

"What do you want?" the bartender asked gruffly setting a dirty glass down after he finished wiping it out with the cloth.

Chris eyed the glass distastefully. "Nothing if you're putting it in that," he said. The bartender growled, glaring at Chris, but the American continued not intimidated. Or oblivious. Either one was a possibility. "You know it'll work better if you use a cloth that's actually clean, right?"

Harry stepped on Chris's foot satisfied when the brunette American grunted and scowled at him.

"We'll just have five butterbeers, please," Harry said sending a warning look at Chris who was looking particularly displeased himself.

The bartender glowered but obligingly pulled five very dusty, dirty bottles from beneath the corner of the bar and snapping all the lids off in a puff of filth. Chris wrinkled his nose but remained silent.

"Two sickles each," the bartender grunted. Harry dutifully counted out the amount, paying for all the drinks, before elbowing Chris to get him to stop staring at the bartender and pick up some of the bottles.

Chris headed back to the table with two of the bottles leaving Harry to juggle the other three. Harry slid one to Ron and another to Hermione as Chris set both of the ones he had in front of Wyatt.

Wyatt raised an eyebrow and slid one back in front of Chris who scowled at him but let the bottle where it was. Wyatt took a tentative sip at first before nodding appreciatively and taking a longer drink. Harry took of gulp of his own glad to discover the unappealing appearance didn't extend to the drink and it was still the same butterscotch taste as always.

"It's actually quite good. Try it," Wyatt urged pushing Chris's bottle closer to his brother.

Chris made an unenthused face and pushed the bottle away. "No, thank you."

"Come on, just try it."

"No."

"Just a little sip won't—"

"Wyatt, I don't know how much clearer I can get than I don't _want_ to," Chris snapped.

Wyatt looked a little taken aback but just scowled. "Well geeze. Relax will you."

Chris shot Wyatt a warning glance, holding his gaze a minute before looking around the room again. Wyatt nodded and backed off immediately. It was another small thing about the Matthew brothers, their constant instances of silent communication.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to be here, Hermione?" Chris asked suddenly.

Hermione frowned but nodded. "Better than anywhere else for this sort of thing."

Chris nodded distractedly still looking around the pub. He arched an eyebrow inclining his head to the entrance. "Looks like your first people are here."

Indeed there was a small group of Gryffindor students making their way hesitantly across the pub. Neville, surprisingly, was leading the way with Dean, Lavender, Parvati and her sister Padma, and the Creevey brothers trailing after him.

Hermione stood to greet them, asking them all to just grab a seat and a drink as they were still waiting on others. That was a little unnerving to Harry. There were already quite a few people here in his opinion and they were apparently still waiting for more.

Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley arrived shortly afterwards followed by Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones. Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot were next, followed by Luna Lovegood and a Hufflepuff Quidditch player Harry believed was Zacharias Smith.

Just a few minutes after, which Harry spent inwardly gawking at how many people were showing up, Ginny walked in followed by Fred, George, Lee Jordan and the three chasers from the Gryffindor team, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson. Not a few moments after them Cho walked in with her redheaded friend.

Harry stared at her a moment before tearing his eyes away and mentally reminding himself it was rude to stare. He settled for looking only at the tabletop, trying to not show too clearly his apprehension about the whole thing. The unsettlingly butterflies in his stomach weren't helping, and he really needed to discuss Hermione's definition of "a few people" with her.

Silence was reigning over the group and it was only a few moments before Harry realized they were all watching him expectantly. He nudged Hermione's foot under the table trying to convey that it was her idea so she had to start.

She seemed to get the message, stumbling to her feet and clearing her throat a bit as she turned to address the crowd.

"Hi," she cleared her throat again, wringing her hands almost nervously. "So, you all know why we're here. We need a teacher," she said warming up some. "A proper teacher. One who's had experience defending themselves against the Dark Arts."

"Why?" The question was abrupt and everyone's stare left the three of them and settled on Zacharias Smith. Hermione seemed thrown and Harry couldn't comprehend why someone would need to ask.

"Why? Because You Know Who's back, you tosspot," Ron said quickly rising to defend his friends.

Smith didn't look convinced and pointed at Harry. "So he says."

"So Dumbledore says," Hermione stated drawing herself up higher and speaking in her most matter of fact tone of voice.

Smith shrugged. "So Dumbledore says because he says."

It was starting to make Harry feel sick to the stomach with anger. All of these people, well perhaps not all of them, but some of them, probably most of them, were here just to ask about what happened last year. Just to hear the juicy inside gossip of the horrors he had lived through.

"The point is," someone else spoke up, Harry wasn't sure who as he was staring intently at the table, "Where's the proof?"

Smith jumped on that right away. "Yeah. If Potter could tell us more about how Diggory got killed—"

Harry smacked his hands on the table standing up abruptly. Everyone fell utterly silent, some not even breathing. "I'm not gonna talk about Cedric," Harry bit out. "So if that's why you're here, clear out now."

He didn't stay to see if anyone left, quickly striding from the small, downright claustrophobic pub and outside to suck in breaths of fresh, cool air.

†††

Chris stared after the retreating Chosen One until the door closed after him blocking him from view. The entire group sat silent, as if stunned into paralysis. Hermione in particular was staring at the door Harry had left through as if the whole thing was ruined.

Chris rolled his eyes looking around the cluster of shocked students. "So, anybody leaving?" he asked.

A couple people shook their heads no while most made no movement whatsoever.

Chris stood pointing at Wyatt. "You, play babysitter and make sure they all don't leave," he said gesturing at students. He pointed at Ron and Hermione. "You two, follow."

Hermione snapped out of her trance, obligingly following Ron and Chris out of the pub after Harry.

Luckily, as Chris had known, Harry hadn't gone far and was sitting on a rock just a little ways outside the pub. His back was to them with his face buried in his hands. Hermione made to move forward instantly but Chris stopped her, gently grabbing her shoulder and motioning for her to let him do the talking. She looked puzzled but nodded allowing Chris to approach Harry first.

"Golden Boy?"

Harry didn't look up, just groaning in his hands. "Please stop calling me that."

Chris arched an eyebrow even though the effect was lost since Harry wasn't looking at him. "Didn't know it bothered you so much," he paused waiting to see if Harry would reply and continued on when the wizard didn't. "Nobody left, you know. Well except for you."

Harry looked up, twisting slightly to face Chris. "What?"

Chris inclined his head to the pub. "No one left. Yeah some of them are here partially to see if they can give you the third degree about Cedric but they're also here to learn because on some level they know they need to. Trust me when I say that every one of them knows, deep down, admittedly some much deeper down than others, that Voldemort is back."

"How am I supposed to teach them?" Harry asked bluntly, seeking a genuine answer.

Chris opened his mouth to reply but Hermione jumped in, beating him to it. "Look at everything you've done, Harry. You've survived and accomplished so much more than any of us, than most adults have. You can teach us what you know, what it's actually like to face this kind of stuff in the real world."

Chris could feel Harry's emotions boiling beneath the composure he was trying to hold. He nudged Hermione's arm trying to get her to stop talking but she just plowed onward ignoring him.

"What it's actually like to face You know Who and live. You can teach us what to do so none of us end up like Cedric—"

Harry exploded, standing so fast Chris actually took a step back and Hermione fell silent abruptly. "You don't know what it's like!" he shouted. The bitterness saturating his tone was agonizing. "You, none of you, have ever had to face him, have you? You stand there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here, _alive_! Like Diggory was _stupid_, like he messed up! You don't get it! That could have easily been me! It would have been if Voldemort hadn't _needed_ me—"

Ron interrupted meekly, trying to calm Harry down. "We weren't saying anything like that, mate. We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't, you've got the wrong end of the…" Ron was floundering and Chris stepped forward grabbing Harry, who was now retaliating quite loudly and spitefully, and roughly dragging him away from Ron and Hermione.

"Shut up," Chris growled looking Harry right in the eye to drive his point home, still holding Harry's arm in a vice like grip. "Quit telling everybody how much they don't get it. Nobody, and I repeat nobody, in that building or standing here thinks that Cedric died because he messed up. Not one of them thinks he was stupid. Crawl out from under your rock and get up on your frickin' high horse. Whether you like it or not you are the Chosen One and freaking Golden Boy. That is not something you can just get rid of when you decide you don't want to deal with it. It's a responsibility you will _always_ have."

Harry twisted his arm a bit trying to get Chris to release his grip. "Let go of me." Chris didn't let go only tightening his grip.

"Listen to me. I know how you feel about what happened with Cedric," he said purposefully lowering his voice so Hermione and Ron wouldn't overhear. Harry pulled harder on his arm and Chris repeated himself. "I know how you feel about Cedric. I _know_."

Harry froze a moment then sneered at him. "No you don't."

"Yes I do. It is a deep, agonizing, never-ending pain and it _sucks_. I know that. But if it's eating you up inside this bad then you should talk to someone."

"I don't want to talk about it with a bunch of nosy people who just want a load of gossip to spread around," Harry spat out acidly.

"I don't mean with them, Harry. I mean talk with someone you trust. Talk to Ron or to Hermione. Hell, talk to your bird."

Harry scowled giving up for now on freeing his arm. "What are you? Some sort of closet psychologist?" he snapped.

Chris held Harry's gaze a moment before releasing his arm and stepping back, still speaking lowly. "I'm just someone who knows how it feels to be responsible for someone's death. Believe me when I say I can relate to how you feel about it." Chris fell silent a long moment, feeling his throat clench a little just thinking about it. He took a steadying breath before continuing. "But if you can't talk," he cleared his throat, trying to erase all traces of the tightness. "If you aren't ready then you won't want to. The others…you're right when you say they don't understand that part. They can't and that's a good thing. But it also means they won't see why you don't want to talk about it. In the future you might want to try being a little more understanding of them rather than chomping their heads off when they mention him. They're just trying to help."

Harry stared at him a long moment, and Chris had to wonder exactly what the wizard was seeing in his expression, before Harry nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "Okay."

Chris grinned at him fleetingly, gesturing over at the pub and Ron and Hermione who were standing there still staring at them like he and Harry were a TV drama or something. Chris had to admit it certainly felt like they were. "Maybe we should head back now? Before Hermione spontaneously combusts from the suspense."

Harry chuckled a little and nodded. "Yeah, guess you're right."

Chris smirked as they headed back over to Ron and Hermione. "I usually am."

"Harry," Hermione said, almost timidly. "You see don't you? Why we need it to be you. We need to know what it's really like…facing him…facing V-Voldemort."

Harry swallowed and Chris could sense the guilt at snapping at his friends and the surprise over Hermione saying Voldemort's name. He gave a short nod, and Hermione sighed in relief immediately giving Harry a tight hug and dragging him back inside the pub. Chris followed after Ron amused to see Wyatt in the middle of imitating something, which he abruptly stopped when he saw the four of them return.

Wyatt coughed; looking slightly uncomfortable while several of the other students struggled to hide their laughter. "Uh, and I return you to the gracious hosts of this lovely little meeting." He sat down next to Chris eyeing Harry calculatingly. He leaned over whispering in Chris's ear, "Well he seems to have done a one-eighty. What'd you say to him?"

Chris shrugged not really wanting to delve that deep into it. "Just gave him a little shove into reality and some good advice."

Wyatt raised his eyebrows looking curious. "Which is?"

"That he shouldn't bottle up what happened with Cedric. He should talk to people he trusts."

Wyatt eyed his brother critically. "Sounds like very good advice." He paused, "Maybe you should take it."

Chris looked at him wearily. "I also said if he wasn't ready he shouldn't push himself." Wyatt frowned opening his mouth to reply but Chris kept talking holding up a hand to stall Wyatt's words. "And that people around him aren't purposefully trying to pry like annoying little termites."

He turned away from Wyatt, ending the conversation for now, to see Harry standing awkwardly in front of the group looking like he'd like nothing more than to leave.

Just as Chris was about to say something to break the awkwardness, the blonde Ravenclaw girl he'd met once briefly spoke up. "Is it true you can produce a Patronus charm?" Luna asked.

Hermione agreed instantly. "Yes. I've seen it."

"Blimey, Harry, I didn't know you could do that," one of the other Gryffindors said.

Neville spoke up next. "And he killed a basilisk, with the sword in Dumbledore's office."

Ron's little sister, Ginny, confirmed that one. "It's true."

"Third year he fought off about a hundred Dementors at once," Ron put in himself. Chris raised a skeptical eyebrow at that one. He wasn't too sure what a Dementor was, but fighting off a hundred of anything seemed like a bit of an exaggeration.

"And last year," Hermione added, looking pleased at how everyone was responding. "He really did fight off You Know Who in the flesh."

"Wait," Harry said. Everyone fell quiet again at his word and Chris wondered if Harry understood the extent to which some of the Wizarding community looked up to him. "Look, it all sounds _great_ when you say it like that. But the truth is most of that was just luck. I didn't know what I was doing half the time. I nearly always had help—"

"He's just being modest," Hermione said.

Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione, I'm not. Facing this stuff in real life is not like school." He struggled to articulate it. To take the clenching feeling within him and give it words to let them understand _what_ it was like. "In school, if you make a mistake you can just try again tomorrow, but out there," he gulped forcing himself onward, "when you're a second away from being murdered or…watching a friend die right before your eyes…you don't know what that's like."

The students sat in silence, none of them sure how to respond.

"There's no second chance," Wyatt said softly, easily heard in the quite. "No redo. You only have one shot."

Harry stared at the blonde before nodding slowly. It was the look in Wyatt's eye that caught Harry's attention. The same look he had seen in Chris at the lakeside the first time Chris had really talked to him. A look of understanding. A look of experience. A seasoned look. A haunted look. A look Harry saw in the mirror everyday but different.

"You're right, Harry, we don't," Hermione said. "That's why we need your help. Because if we're to have any chance against beating…Voldemort," she said the name clearly if a little hesitantly, "then we're going to need everything we've got."

The group was all nodding their heads and one of the younger boys asked, "He's really back then?"

Harry smiled sadly and nodded. "Yeah. He's really back."

Hermione let everyone sit quietly on that statement for a few minutes before clearing her throat and drawing everyone's attention back to her.

"Right. Well now that it's all settled there's some order of business things that need attended to if we're to make this an actual functioning arrangement. I brought a piece of parchment I'd like for you to all sign—"

"Isn't he a Slytherin?" Zacharias asked pointing, rather rudely, at Chris with a look of disgust.

Hermione hesitated a moment before nodding her head. "Yes, but—"

"And you're gonna let him join this thing?"

Chris drew his eyebrows together, a little confused and a bit offended. "Why not?" he asked overriding Hermione's attempts to pacify the situation.

Zacharias scoffed at him. "Because you're a Slytherin. You could run off and tell the rest of your house all about it. I mean you are all chummy with Malfoy aren't you?" Several of the other students were looking uncomfortable now that Zacharias had brought it up.

"All right," Chris said getting fed up with the whole thing. He really didn't know why Dumbledore had insisted on sorting them like normal students. It was simply complicating things in the long run.

"Here's the deal. First off, I guarantee you that until it actually benefits Draco in some way, which it doesn't as of now, he does not give a damn what you Gryffindorks and Hufflepuffles and Ravennerds are doing. Secondly, _I_ do _not_ report every second of my life to Draco just because he thinks he's King of the World or something.

"And thirdly," Chris spat sucking in a deep breath. "This whole inter-house conflict thing you guys have got going on here? It's ridiculous! The whole Gryffindors are self-sacrificing idiots and Hufflepuffs are loyal useless sidekicks and Ravenclaws are all marrying their books and Slytherins are cheating, deceiving bastards is freaking ridiculous. I swear you guys are worse than the whole black, white, Mexican thing going on in America! Grow the hell up and learn to work together!

"And then maybe, _maybe,_ we won't all end up dead at the end of this weird crusade thing we're starting here," he finished a bit self consciously when he realized he'd stood up and everyone was staring at him. He sat down quickly, half hiding his face behind his hands, and Wyatt sent him a blinding smile and a telepathic message.

_That's been eating at you a bit, hasn't it?_ Wyatt asked.

Chris rolled his eyes. _"What do you think?" _It had, quite honestly, though he wasn't sure why exactly. The idea that all these wizards were facing a threat like Voldemort and were still holding on to something as juvenile as house rivalries sickened him. If Hogwarts had any chance, they couldn't be divided.

Hermione was still staring at him speechless before finally shaking herself and returning to what she had been saying. "Right, now that that has been, erm, worked out. Anyone else have a problem with Chris being included?" she asked fixing a harsh stare on Zacharias who simply slouched in his chair.

"Nah," Fred said grinning.

"We quite like the little bloke," George said matching his twin's expression. Several other Gryffindor students nodded in agreement.

"Well good," Hermione said. "Anyway, I'd like all of you to sign this parchment so we know who all is interested. Anyone have any questions?"

Cho raised her hand slightly, focusing on Harry as she asked, "What exactly will you be teaching us?"

Harry glanced at Hermione. "Just defensive magic. The whole point of this is to get you to learn what you should be learning in Defense Against the Dark Arts since Umbridge isn't teaching us."

"Where will we be meeting?" Neville said.

Hermione bit her lip. "We don't know just yet. If you have any ideas feel free to tell us. Once we determine where we'll meet I'll let all of you know as well as when we'll meet."

"We could meet in an empty classroom," Cho suggested still not looking away from Harry. Her flameheaded friend was slouched unhappily in the seat beside her.

"Or one of the common rooms," Ginny said shrugging.

"We could meet in Hogsmeade somewhere," Neville said.

The group all offered up several more possibilities, Hermione diligently writing them down on a piece of parchment to be reviewed later. They talked over a few more items that needed discussed, such as when they would be meeting, what they would be expected to do, and some of their ideas for the classes.

"There is one final thing I need to say," Hermione said as the group had fallen silent signaling the coming end of the meeting. "Although the existence of our group is not technically against any school rules I can't imagine Umbridge being very receptive to the idea. The need for secrecy of this group is absolutely vital. _Absolutely_ no one but those at this meeting right now can know. Understand?"

Everyone, some more reluctantly than others, nodded their understanding, and after a bit the students gradually began filtering out, a few staying a little longer to chat, until only Harry, Hermione, Ron, Wyatt and Chris were left.

Ron and Harry were now bent over the papers with Hermione, sorting through and discussing little details, talking amongst themselves.

Chris scanned the establishment again, not particularly liking the feeling of being watched he had. His gaze settled for only a second on a patron by the fireplace and he quickly moved his gaze away. Chris tapped Wyatt on the arm softly. _"The witch with the black veil by the fireplace has been watching us since we've arrived." _

Wyatt froze, almost imperceptibly, and cast only his gaze to the witch, appraising her. After a few moments, he smiled and turned to face Chris, talking in a low undertone. "I see her."

Chris smiled grimly. "Not her. Him."

"You know who it is?" Wyatt asked, redirecting his gaze from the person and taking a swig of his butterbeer.

"No. It's strange though. He's watching us but not maliciously. He's just watching. There's something else, too. The idiot by the bar," Chris whispered, subtly inclining his head to a man in a simple brown coat who was quite visibly staring at them at regular intervals. "He's been watching, very obviously I must say, since we started talking about what we were up to."

"What are we gonna do 'bout it?" Wyatt asked.

Chris shrugged. "Nothing. We don't want them to know we know they're watching. We don't know why they're watching anyway. Could be nothing."

Wyatt laughed. "Aw, come on, Chris, we both know these things are never nothing."

"You ready to go?" Ron asked them as Hermione gathered up her papers. Chris nodded as Wyatt drained the last of his butterbeer.

"Yep, all set," the blonde said.

"So," Chris said nudging Harry on the shoulder. "Still adverse and nervous about the idea?"

Harry shrugged wearing a very resigned expression. "I dunno. Just…going with it."

Hermione laughed, holding the door as they all exited the pub. "Well whatever happens, Harry, at least we know one positive thing came from today."

Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Cho couldn't take her eyes off you, could she?" Hermione asked, smirking.

Harry blushed, a very noticeable red flush racing to his cheeks and ears. Wyatt smiled gleefully, having been formerly unaware of Harry's crush, and immediately threw an arm around Harry's shoulders. "You have yourself a crush, mate?" he asked, savagely butchering the British accent as he peered seriously at Harry.

"No," Harry protested weakly blushing even more and hurriedly correcting himself. "I mean yes, but—"

"But what! What are you waiting for?" Wyatt said gesturing empathically as he spoke. "If she's making goo-goo eyes at you and you obviously want to make goo-goo eyes back at her then you should get together and make goo-goo with something else!"

Harry looked suitably mortified, red as an apple, as well as slightly confused, and Chris judged it was time to rein his brother back in. "Wyatt," he said sharply. He shook his head as Wyatt turned to look innocently wide-eyed at him. "Not everyone is a nymphomaniac like you, bro. Leave him alone 'bout it."

Wyatt pouted but obediently left Harry's side, coming to walk next to Chris as the five of them began trekking up the long drive to Hogwarts. "Well, I guess that leaves just one last question," Wyatt said.

Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands. Chris grinned catching onto the question and realizing it had nothing at all to do with Harry's love life.

"I think I know what it is," he said speaking the next words in perfect unison with his brother.

"Ron, what in god's name is a tosspot?"

* * *

**Okay…there it is. Hope you enjoyed. :) It's actually rather short as I look over it now but...*shrug* **

**See ya all again hopefully sooner rather than later. **


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